If I had one year to live...

For one day.....

I would eat. I would gather my friends and family and make all the meals that have been close to my heart for years.  We would eat Mac and Cheese, Umami Burgers, bacon, gravy, mashed potatoes, french fries, Ledo pizza, chicken wings, flaming hot cheetos, chinese food, Meatballs, MORE CHINESE FOOD, Taco Bell, and maybe some obnoxiously priced fine dining that may or may not satisfy me.  We would feast and laugh and feel sick afterwards. 

And along the way, I'm sure we'd get fat.  But that no longer matters since I'm dying, remember?  All the laughter echoes through me.

For the next year......

I would not quit my job.  If I remained healthy enough I would continue working, at least part-time, because somehow I value being a part of society.  Being independent and establishing your sense of meaning and contribution in life is what makes us feel alive.  I value myself and my accomplishments, however long and hard and stressful the road was.  I value my coworkers and the relationships I've established with them. We're like an obnoxious family, and I wouldn't give that up so easily.

Within the year, I would take some time off , charter a yacht, and take two groups of people on vacation.  I would spend all my money on the people that make me happy.

On one vacation.....

I would take my family.  I would choose an exotic location like the Greek Islands because they're the most beautiful place I've ever seen with my own two eyes, and I want my family that I have loved forever to experience the same beauty I was lucky enough to once see.  I want to laugh with them, binge eat Gyros while watching the sunset, share stories, drink wine with my mom and dad, reminisce about our childhoods with my brother and sister and how we expected so much out of life when we were little.

To be a super hero...
To be a famous actor....
To be a doctor....
To be a singer....
To be an author...
To be a professional soccer player...(my brother's dream, not mine. Trust me.)

We would discuss all of our dreams and realize that just because they may not have come true, doesn't mean our lives were less meaningful.  We would realize that having meaning in life comes from the relationships you've built and the knowledge and love and compassion you've shared.  We'd re-tell the story of  Dad winning the 3-legged race at my sister's 3rd grade field day by discretely carrying her across the finish line. Because he wanted her to win so badly.  Then we'd laugh at the thought of my dad dragging his 3rd grade daughter that was tied to his leg across the finish line, like Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan.  We'd laugh so hard that wine flew out our noses.

We'd look at each other in sadness knowing that all good things must eventually come to an end, but smile from knowing that this very moment was still ours and no one could take it from us.

On the other vacation....

I would take my closest friends.  Since money is no object when you find out your dying, I would charter a Yacht through the Caribbean around all the Virgin Islands. It would be quite the irony for a charter full of "queens" to set foot on a virgin island, but since I'm the one that is dying I arranged that on purpose. Because it's funny.  A lot of my friends have become my family.  Sometimes going through the most awful aspects of life and being there for one another without blinking an eye is what true relationships and bonds are made of.

We'd lay on the beach, drinking beyond what's considered "healthy" and swapping stories about who we think is most likely to accidentally take home a transvestite or contract syphillis from a smuggled pigmy midget.  And then we'd belly-laugh.  

Towards the end we may get sad that things were ending but, still, that very moment was ours. I would take the laughter and love because they live on through one another.  The fancy yacht is just a minor detail.  I promise.  Because it can't come with you when you die.

And then....

I'd find true love.  I never really have before, so now I have one year to find it.  My friends Emily and Megan have found true love with 15 different men since 8th grade, and I'm extremely jealous.

I would open myself up to experiences I'm not used to, allow myself to become more vulnerable, take risks and tell some stranger whom I found attractive, "Hey.  You're cute.  Let's do this".  I would live as though the consequences and outcomes are irrelevant.  After all, if I'm dying, aren't they?  But those consequences and outcomes should have always been irrelevant.   How come I never realized this before?

Here's how I would fall in love:

I see him reading a newspaper on a bench next to the Hudson and I ask him why he's smirking.  He looks up and says, "Just reading this story of two lesbian penguins at the zoo who got pregnant from scissoring".  He had me at lesbian penguins.

We would spend the afternoon together, exploring the city and having drinks at some candle-lit bars in LES.  Then we'd make it across the Williamsburg bridge to Miss Favela because I like dancing at a bar underneath a filthy bridge.  I'm no better than a troll.  We order caipirinhas, one after another.  We leave at 1am and make-out outside the bar.  His name is Alex, which I like because I can easily pronounce it when I'm drunk.  We catch a cab uptown to his apartment.

The cab is racing up 8th avenue. The windows are down and our hands are intertwined and there's a perfect summer breeze running through our hair as the buildings fly by.  I look over and see him staring out the window and then staring back at me.  He smiles and I wonder how this happened, how we found one another.

And the breeze is rushing by.

And this time, this moment, with this one person, is all I need.  I don't want it to end because the thought of it ending is too tragic to bare.  I close my eyes and hope and pray that somehow this cab ride will last forever.  And then I realize, in that moment, maybe I found true love.


And I smile because it wasn't too late.