What if your life expectancy? If you had a way to anticipate your exit from this world, would you choose your own off ramp? This is the kind of discussion you can have first thing in the morning at an elementary school. Before the kids come in. We were having it in reference to the stolen passports involved in the Malaysia Airlines incident. Terrorists? Or maybe just unfortunate victims of a catastrophe. It's possible that we will never know, but imagining that these two men were attempting to flee their country to the relative safety and calm of Europe is one of the possibilities. After all the intrigue of trying to get themselves out to a better life, getting on a doomed jet airliner would be almost too tragic.
We want more. When I say "we," I mean most of us human-types. When I say "more," I mean life itself. The conversation continued. We wondered if there was a point where you could be satisfied. My colleague suggested that if he knew his time was coming, he would start jumping out of airplanes. This was an interesting choice of activity, considering what lead up to it, but I got the idea: start taking those chances. Start taking the risks that would allow you to tell stories, and then for others to tell those stories after you're gone.
I considered this for a moment, and realized that I have a different perspective as a parent. Once my son was born, my story started a new chapter. This was going to be a longer book. I want to stick around to see how his life turns out. How will he navigate the twists and turns of college and dating? When will he fall in love? How many times? Who will his children be? And the cycle repeats again.
So many paths. So very little time.