I ordered nipples from Amazon. 3d, self-sticking , rubbery nipple-olios. When they arrived, in their little white case I asked my dad to guess what was inside. Holding the circular white case in front of me I asked my dad, “What’s in this box?” He paused, gave me a “Good god what now?” look and said, “Makeup? A piece to a game? I have no idea Danielle and I’m nervous to find out.” “NIPPLES!” I exclaimed. He stared blankly for a few seconds, shook his head and said, “Wouldn’t have guessed that.”
I recently stopped in at my local supermarket. It’s a pint-sized place located inside my petite hometown. A quaint market to mirror a picturesque seaside town. The type of place where everyone greets you with a hello and where you can’t help but overhear people’s conversations of familiarity, love, respect and regard. It’s usually the older people who have stopped in the bread aisle or in front of the produce section to talk about what’s new in their lives or to speak fondly of a friend who has recently passed. Standing closely and connecting with one another. Taking the time to catch up. On this particular day I shopped to gather forgotten fixings for that night’s dinner. While selecting my spinach I overheard a conversation between an older man, a woman and her husband. They were seniors and seemed to be of equal age. They were speaking candidly with each other. I could tell they were friends. Close confidants who typically don’t have the opportunity to reconnect.
The woman asked the man, “How are you?” He replied, “Lousy. I recently went to the doctor and he told me that I should go home to die.” Almost dropping my tomatoes my eavesdropping ears perked up. The elder couple gasped simultaneously in disbelief. Their mouths were slightly agape as they put a hand on their chest. The man continued speaking about his ailment. Explaining that he has several stents in his heart and how, “There was nothing they could do for him.” The woman suggested that he go to a prayer circle. The man smiled softly and said, “I have.” Then he said, “I mean, I’m 85. It’s been a great life. What else could I ask for?” The man and the woman paused. Their aura softened. They seemed resolved with his response. The man made a joke about how he wants to be brought to the golf course after he dies. The woman laughed and said, “I love that idea.” I was intrigued by this conversation. I checked in on the emotions I was having. I felt grateful to listen in from a distance on an intimate yet open minded conversation about the end of someone’s life being held in front of the apples in the produce section as strangers rushed in-between us to buy ingredients to feed their families, haphazardly complaining about today’s humidity and grunting about how glad they are that it was Friday.
The trio laughed and smiled with each other. They reminisced about high school and ended their conversation by saying, “See you at church.” It was fine. They were fine. There was total resolve regarding the next chapter of their lives. An acceptance and appreciation. It was beautiful. It was refreshing. It was life. Undiluted lifeeeeee.
As humans we focus primarily on “living.” But what about “dying?” We all live. And we all die. Chapters begin, chapters end. Previous timelines close, new ones commence. But do we appreciate and accept? Do we take the time to observe dog’s ears freely flapping in the wind. Or watch seagulls tuck their little feet up into their bellies so they can become more aerodynamic. Being able to revel in the happy times of our past, accepting their conclusion while looking forward to creating happy times of our future. Losing our nipples and then buying new ones on the internet. It’s the acceptance of it ALL which makes it not only copacetic, but gratifying. To revel in the totality of life is what it means to “live.” To accept and appreciate what your life has been is what it means to “die.” And I’m grateful to have it all.
