I remember laughing at my grandmother years ago when she announced she had bought her last refrigerator. I laughed again on my recent birthday at the memory because now I understand. With age, the last times are finally tangible.
Not that I’ve bought my last refrigerator yet. I can see it now without the fog of a dream surrounding it, however.
Everything that had a beginning will end. I will buy my last refrigerator. I’ll own my last car, my last house. There will be a last cat.
There will be a last wasted day.
A last hello.
A last swallowed rage.
A last lie.
A last humiliation.
A last dream.
A last nightmare.
A last first day of anything.
In the early years, I searched for something that would last forever. After half a century, I am only grateful that nothing met that expectation. The existence of the finish line has given meaning to the entire race, and now that it’s in sight, it is a relief.
I look forward to my last refrigerator.
