When, If Not Now

When, If Not Now

“What are you doing?” Always a question that is something someone asks, when they don’t quite know how or what to say. It is more a matter of acceptance, as much as it is a search for an explanation. Seeing is believing, but is it.  Blowing into a plastic bag, placing a twisty around its gathered top, creating a misshaped balloon. Droplets of moisture sliding down the plastics interior as the bag is held to the light of the window, the trapped air remaining subservient to gravity.

“I asked you if you would consider contributing to the time capsule my kids at school are putting together for the, Futures Project. I told you about it, remember. We have decided, I should say they have decided, that if we are to leave something for the children of the future, we need do it now, before it is too late. The predictions are that we will be severely impacted by the meteorite, Geronimo, by early next year.

The projections circulating, and the information the class has gathered, suggests that we may no longer be able to continue living in the manner we have become accustomed to. Scientists are stating we could suffer the same demise as the dinosaurs. A changing climate, an unlivable environment. The children wish to leave something behind for future generations to remember them by. I understand their concerns, fears, but am very gratified by their hopes that a future will come, life will continue in some fashion.

I have gathered some seeds from the garden, some I keep for... just in case. Some flower, vegetable, rice, wheat seeds, things they claim, from the investigation of the pyramids, will survive for hundreds, if not thousands of years. And you! Making balloons when the world is about to change and our very existence along with it.”

“She takes everything so seriously. Everything, as if it is going to somehow make a difference. I have been listening, despite what she thinks. I too, have considered the possibility of a future, or lack of one, and have decided, somewhat along the lines she has chosen, that for us to leave something of significance for future generations, if there is one, is important, although probably naïve. 

We are just emerging from the worst global pandemic in a hundred years. Millions of people have died. The economy has withered; once a grape, now a raisin. Our water, air, and general quality of life has deteriorated because of ignored regulation, and now this. A rock the size of Washington D.C. hurtling through space in our direction, and nothing we can do but wait and hope.

I suppose we could pretend nothing will happen. We are good at that as a people, nation, world. I guess hoping is easier to do, than having to plan for a possibility of… 

I have wondered of late about the changing world. Permafrost melting, glaciers disappearing, oceans rising, God only knows what other pathogens are being released from the frozen tundra into the atmosphere, and we only sit and watch, as there is nothing else we can do. We can’t even agree that there is a problem that we have created, and what we need do, or at least attempt to mitigate, if life is to have any chance at a future.

It makes little difference to me. I have been notified I’ve tested positive for the virus. I also have a history of what they call, enhanced circumstances, age, asthma, diabetes, heart arrhythmia. They didn’t have to tell me my time is limited.

I haven’t told anyone. What can I say to them, I’m dying, pray for me. I don’t think prayer will help. It is usually reserved as a means of self-absolution, an acceptable solution for those that pray. I will rely on my steroid agenda to provide an illusion of happiness and… 

But I do want to leave something for the future to contemplate. I know I won’t be here, nor will I have the ability to know how they processed my gift, but perhaps they will have evolved to the point, where the whole of humanity is recognized, as being only as strong as the members it is composed of.  

I have left a laminated note on the inside of the bag. It simply states that I leave them a reminder that life is preciously precarious, and should not be contaminated by power, greed, arrogance, and money. I placed the universal symbol for poison and the words, Covid Virus, 19, next to it. 

I wish I could come back to see if their response to a problem is met with the same apathy, we met our adversary with, or whether they will rise above self-interest, and incorporate empathy into solving their adversities.

I leave the bag and its contents, to a future I can only hope will handle the circumstances surrounding it, in a more noble fashion than we have managed to do.”

 “He leaves me this bag with a note inside. I cannot bring myself to even read what he has written. He has given up on hope and life, for some reason. I believe there are people who are not suited for diversity. Pressure makes them implode, become swallowed by self-interest. 

My students have given me the greatest gift possible, hope. An outlook that encompasses a future by design, where everyone contributes their talents towards a greater good. A love, that grows from diligence and duty.

I can’t just take this, whatever it is, back to class. Looks like nothing but air. But maybe, that is what he was attempting to give to the future, a sample of us, based on the life we breathe. Not the worst metaphor I can imagine. Just like him and his nebulous sense of humor, to give the future something they cannot see or touch, but only contemplate.”



“I watch as she picks the bag from the table and begins to untwist the coated wire enclosing its top. She then unwinds the plastic of the bag, places her nose next to the opening, and breathes deeply. I almost laugh out loud but prefer to remain unobserved. She then breathes into the bag and returns the twisty to the top, and places it in her box of dreams. Sometimes nature can be comical and callous simultaneously, because it has no sense of right and wrong, only inherent justice.”