That Sense of Eventual Doom

Wednesday, January 15, 2014



There's something to be said for living as if the world is not going to end.

When I was very small, I saw, or heard about, or in some way was deeply impacted by a movie about the end of the free world. I don't remember if I saw all of it or any of it or just heard about it. All I have is residual terror. A knowledge about an idea of the future that is somehow mixed in with the fiber of my being. It lurks, pouncing at the strangest times, like a few days ago when I was looking at bathroom appliances in a home improvement store.

I was looking at sinks and faucets for a bathroom we've spent 20 years finishing, and thinking about how I would do a bathroom of my own, in my own home, when I felt a strange feeling and had to think for a moment what it was--desire coupled with resistance. A resistance to the idea of creating a place, setting down roots, of getting attached, of eventually being torn from what I knew and loved.

It took a moment to shake the spread of the feeling. It's been 20 years since the bathroom was started, a girl's bathroom in a house where women now outnumber men three to one. Twenty years is a long time, time enough to raise a family, to decorate and redecorate. Time enough to install a faucet and use it a few thousand times.

That sense of eventual doom is likely a fundamental part of me, cultivated by literal readings of the Bible and by the WWII histories I read in my formative years. It's difficult to strip from your being the things intertwined with how you see the world. It's difficult to avoid seeing parallels and history repeating itself. But let me tell you this, should this resonate a little too loudly within you yourself, make plans for tomorrow, for 40 years from now. Decorate. Buy the good appliances. Invest. Nurture. It's worth it, for however long it lasts, and you will be stronger for the vulnerability. Trust me on this.

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