What Makes A Human

"You feel this year of your life is gone. It's lost wages and it's lost experiences."

Somewhere, in this vast expanding world, there is clock ticking. There are birds and beautiful creatures being born. Even babies- who are miniature people that hold all the innocence we as adults have lost. There is life in its simplest form. But there is also Death. Always Death; around the corner, creeping into your soul and leaving you in space. There is another person, just like you, left behind to waste away in a deteriorating memory. It's a twisted circle, really. Everything you do, everything that molds you like some piece of clay is permanent. But is it always that way? If you really think about it, all our lives always lead back to the start- except you die instead of being reborn. Unless you believe in reincarnation, which is okay I guess. I'd rather die than come back as some cruddy rat though.

But anyway, think about it. First, you're born. Then after you've finally learned to garble in a way people understand you, you're trying to learn to walk while balancing your fat to different parts of your body. After you've managed to understand how to move right and not look like a gangling idiot, you start to run and jump and do all the cute things toddlers do. Eventually, you become curious of things, of why they are there and how they work. So you flush Dad's favorite tie down the toilet, eat Mommy's cherry red lipstick, and still have enough time to crap yourself and rub it all over the walls.

But as life passes you by and you're reminiscing at your Thirty Year High school Reunion about the time you put the principal's desk on the roof and stole the vice principal's golf cart, you realize that you've missed out on the important things. A woman you want to wake up to the next morning and not regret what you did the other night. Kids who shriek with joy when they hear Daddy's home. Even that wave of relief you get coming home from work and everything is safe and happy to see you. Those are the things you missed out on.

But now you're eighty years old, forgetting why things are there and how they work. You have arthritis and can no longer walk or eat or pick up a spoon without excruciating pain. You look like a gangling idiot. You can no longer run because you've lost the energy of your youth and you're back to diapers because you just can't stop crapping on yourself. You can't talk or tell your grandkids you love them because you've lost your voice to throat cancer.

You are dying and the only thing that'll go through your head is "why did I spend so many days just like this...not being alive?" But maybe if you're lucky, like my grandfather, this won't even matter to you. Maybe like my granddad, the only thought that went through your mind as you passed away is that life wasn't as damn near as cruel to you as it could've been. In those last few seconds of your life, you're not begging the nurse to let your family in to be told you'll be missed; that you're loved one last time. I like to think in those last few seconds, my granddad was thinking of God- for everything he gave him the strength to do and the forgiveness he gave him when he couldn't. Maybe in the end he knew...that one day, he'd see us on the other side...and he was thankful for that.

"Ronnie, are you still writing?" I looked away from the computer screen and towards the doorway. Hues of pink and purples flitted across the room in a quiet dance, the green curtains fluttering in the breeze. A grin broke across my face as Alyssa leaned against the doorway, her jet black tresses framing her delicate face. My flower. "Are you going to stop me if I am?" Pink flushed her skin as she crossed her arms and turned her attention to the open window.

Rolling out of my chair, I enclosed the space between us and yanked Alyssa's body against mine. Although her dark eyes were still on the sunset, I felt that familiar tingle of satisfaction when her arms looped around my neck. "I have more than half the mind to throw you out that window," she murmured. I placed a hand on her hair and twirled a piece of it between my fingers, inhaling. Coconut. "You could never do such a heinous act." I picked her up and Alyssa squealed before I placed her in my lap on the window seat. She furrowed her eyebrows for making such an unpleasant noise. Well, to her anyways.

"You love me far too much to do that," I whispered, pressing a palm against her smooth skin. She leaned into it and smiled, a dream-like trance coming over her. "You're an idiot," Alyssa said before brushing her mouth against mine. I immediately reacted, the hair on my arms standing at attention. It was automatic, as if my heart and body had practiced and memorized her touch for thousands of years. I stiffened a tremor when Alyssa pulled away and grinned, her chocolate eyes boring into mine. "Now come downstairs- I ordered Panda." She patted my chest as she walked away. Once her footsteps ceased to echo on the staircase, I jumped to my computer and saved the document. My grandfather's love story is one that no man should life not knowing- its the kind of first love that is bedazzled in euphoria and stomach-turning gushiness. Its the kind of love I have today. Shutting down the computer, I bounded down the stairs. Alyssa's laughter echoed throughout the house for the rest of the night.