rich and/or famous

we don't really know how much of the future we really have to worry about. but I'd guess most of us feel like it's a lot. years and years. decades. at the very least, this weekend.

but there's room in our brains for a lot more than just tomorrow. we can imagine the things we will do next week, and where we might be three months from now, and all the possibilities of the year after next. the things that matter now might not matter then. the people we see everyday might not be the same.

in the book I just finished (Sum, by David Eagleman), there is an afterlife full of only the people you personally met and remembered before you died. everyone else just doesn't exist anymore. that story was a little bit sad; in that afterlife you will never got to meet anyone new or learn anything that you hadn't known before. but that's how you lived your life. so that's all you got.

of all the people I have ever met, how many will I still remember when I die? and what will I remember them for?

probably little things. I haven't met anyone who has done anything really spectacular, have I? no one in my circle of friends is exactly a household name. but that's okay. the little things matter. they add up. you might be famous in my head for teaching me about linguistics, or for wearing the most adorable blue plaid shoes to church last week. I might remember you for having a really cool book collection or for having written that song all those years ago. I don't know what it is, but there's probably something. that time we laughed ourselves to tears, or the street where we watched all the seagulls and the street musicians. your voice. your handwriting. a compliment. the color of your car.

it isn't like I've found that person of all people who is going to become my entire world. my world is still in lots of little pieces. and who says I'll ever have to trade them in?