Tell me what you'll miss.

I recently started a writing practice book. Old Friend from Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir by Natalie Goldberg. The prompts in this workbook have been eye-opening, revealing things I didn't even know I wanted to write about. One of the prompt pages has only one line: Tell me what you will miss when you die. I wanted to share an edited version of the writing I did for this prompt.

When I die, I will miss the mundane, the everyday. All the things I tend to complain about now. I will miss my noisy family, my obnoxious brothers, and their antics. Even the way my grandmother chews on her fingernails. I'll miss seeing a sunset in a rearview mirror. I'll miss making stupid choices and fixing other people's problems. When I die, I'll miss food, good food. Food I only got to have once a year when I was alive. I'll miss hugs from friends, new and old. I'll miss finding frogs in the grass after it rains. When I die, I'll miss meeting new people. I'll miss figuring out what makes them who they are. I'll miss music. I'll miss colors, vibrant colors in new combinations. I'll miss the feeling of pen on paper when I die. I'll miss the sound my keyboard makes, or the clacking of my typewriter. I'll miss taking bubble baths, swimming, or flying in a plane. I'll miss the way my feet hurt after a long day...even though right now I hate that feeling.

I learned a lot from writing this. First of all, there is so much beauty around me that makes life worth living. Tied into that, there is so much left to be found. I don't want any of my family reading this to be worried. I'm okay, this was just writing practice, but it brought me so much perspective to be even more grateful for every day than I already am.

Jo <3