The best things in life, we save for later. We save happiness in our back pocket for a time where we’ll be able to receive it better.
I save my favorite part of a meal for last. When I have an idea for an essay, poem, or metaphor, I save it for another day. I keep a document a mile long with every poem that would be better written by a future version of myself, or better suited for a different magazine. When I really look, I think as people we all do this often. Sometimes we save kind words for a day when we feel better. We save a hugs and tokens of affection for the ‘right time.’ Sometimes we can even save people for later- dating prospects, friendships, or acquaintances.
In the end, I think it all comes down to taking life for granted. It’s funny, because we as humans strive for happiness, but we fail to see it when we have it. For example, my grandma has told me that growing up in her family, everyone ate the best part of their meal first. This was because if visitors came unexpectedly (which happened often) they would be given the best part of the meal. The largest portion, the best piece of meat, the last sip of homemade juice would be yanked off of their plates and offered to whatever smiling friend waltzed in. Her and her siblings never took their meal for granted because they knew it could be taken from them. At the time, I’m sure they didn’t appreciate it, but inevitably I think it taught them not to save happiness for later. It taught them to be appreciative of what they had and willing to be generous with others.
With people, we can take those closest to us for granted. Whoever provides us with the most attention, care, and love seems to be those we appreciate the least. We might save our friends that have always been there for us in our back pocket because we know that we can text them, swivel back and glance at them whenever the whim strikes.
I’ve been pondering this topic for a few weeks now, the concept of all we save for later. I want to use up every ounce of love every second I can. I want to offer up the best parts of every meal, the best parts of me. All it means is living life to the fullest. All it means is appreciating everything we have.
A poem by Mahmoud Darwish, one of my favorite poets, comes to mind when pondering this. The poem is titled, ‘Life to the last drop,’ and the beginning of the translated version reads,
“If someone said to me again: 'Supposing you were to die tomorrow, what would you do?' I wouldn't need any time to reply. If I felt drowsy, I would sleep. If I was thirsty, I would drink. If I was writing, I might like what I was writing and ignore the question. If I was having lunch, I would add a little mustard and pepper to the slice of grilled meat.”
These first lines of the poem stopped me in my tracks, and I read the rest of it open-mouthed and wide eyed. There are poems that make me think differently, sure, but this poem comes in a classification of its own. It came with this grand sense that I was standing in the middle of a storm while remaining dry, or sitting on the top of a mountain without feeling how the air thins or ears pop. I don’t really know why the poem shook me so soundly; probably a combination of timing and the actual content of it. Yes, the poem suggests the kind of inevitability of the end of the world; the idea that there is nothing else to do but continue living if someone said the world would end. I think that is the clear, main theme. Further though, the poem seems to be asking- if the world were to end, is how you are living right now enough? Is it good enough to conclude your time on earth? Are the mundane things (arguably, the things that make up a life) enough to satisfy? The best poems seem to ask a question and encourage self-reflection while talking about something else.
If I feel drowsy, I wait to sleep until night time. If I’m thirsty, I wait until I’m parched to drink water. If I have my favorite food in the fridge, I wait until Friday to eat it. I want to change.
At its core, this poem, to me, was about saving things for later. This is why it resonated so deeply, and it’s why I bring it up now. If you knew the world was about to end- you wouldn’t save anything, especially not the mundane things, for later. You would love freely, act on feelings, strive towards happiness like it’s a birthright.
Ironically, I went through the same save-it-for-later thought process with today’s essay. As soon as I came up with the idea, I debated saving it for a magazine, or something else, something better. But if the world ends tomorrow, I will be glad that I was overly-indulgent in describing a poem I love, repetitive in the amount of times I’ve said ‘save for later.’ I will be glad that I wrote the essay I wanted to, when I wanted to.
-nia mahmud <3
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