Life

They say life begins at thirty, or forty, or some middle aged moment when one stumbles across some sort of epiphany. That awe inspiring moment when you finally get it. "It" of course being so ambiguous that there really isn't much room for error. They say that your twenties are spent figuring out who you really are. Awkwardly walking through the daily routine hoping for discovery. Sipping on coffee cups or puffing at cigarettes, enjoying moments of depression and loneliness with pen in hand. Our whole life is in front of us and we stall. We haven't figured it out yet. We don't get it, and we won't for another ten or twenty years. That's what they tell us.

Is it possible they could be wrong? Do we delay the epiphany? Are we afraid of it? I am convinced I won't have to spend a decade staring at my watch before tasting whatever this life thing is. I am convinced that life has already begun. Life began at four when I bought my first popsicle and tried as hard as could not to bite at that melting hunk of ice. Life began the first time I held hands with a girl and she didn't pull away exclaiming, "This game is stupid, Miss Weaks, boys are gross!" This being no insult considering girls were equally disgusting. Life begins everyday, even if it begins with that annoying alarm clock buzzer. Life begins with the windows down on the freeway. Life begins when someone sneaks up behind you and you are forced swallow your heart and scream like a school girl. Life begins at birth, or conception, or somewhere in between depending on where you stand in the whole life/choice debate. Life begins when you can finally take off your shoes, wear your flip flops out at night, lose your breath laughing, or crunch leaves as you walk. Ladies and gentlemen, life has already begun. Why are we stalling?