Still So Much To Be Done

I spend many mornings here with all of you on WordPress and Jetpack. After my morning meditation and mindfulness practice, followed by my wildly competitive Wordle showdown, I settle into my favorite chair with a cup of coffee and read your beautifully crafted blogs. You make me laugh, think, cry, and occasionally nod my head so hard I nearly spill my coffee.

Most nights, though, sleep and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms. Anxiety likes to clock in for the overnight shift, leaving me restless and, if I’m being honest, a little down by morning. But by the time I hit the start button on the Jeep and begin my drive toward my little coastal work town, something shifts. The sea salt air sneaks in through the cracks of the day ahead and reminds me to exhale. Another sunrise. Another chance to begin again.

Lately, I’ve found myself wrestling with the realization that the light switch can be turned off at any moment.

This week on one of those sleepless nights, my mind wandered back to that awful childhood game of Musical Chairs. What sadist invented that game anyway? A bunch of kids circling chairs like tiny caffeinated bulls, waiting for the music to stop so they could dive for survival. If you didn’t find a seat, you were out. That’s it. Game over.

Honestly, that game should come with a lifetime supply of co-payments for future therapy sessions.

I’m a realist. I know the music eventually stops for all of us. That’s the game of life. It’s not death itself that unsettles me so much as the thought that I still have things left undone. Stories I want to write. Places I want to see. People I want to hug a little tighter. Some days I make peace with that truth. Other days, it taps me on the shoulder and whispers, “Are you sure you’re making the most of this?”

This morning, the answer arrived courtesy of Jimmy Buffett.

I pulled out of the driveway early and headed to the gym. No Shoes Radio played through the speakers. Then came “Last Mango in Paris.”

Always one of my favorites.

It’s a song about a colorful Key West character who’s done his share of living loudly and loving deeply, yet still understands there are adventures left to chase and dreams left to pursue. The chorus rolled in, familiar and comforting:

“And Jimmy, there’s still so much to be done.”

The workout ended. I was drenched. My watch informed me that I’d burned 676 calories in 1 hour, 13 minutes, and 45 seconds. Despite feeling like a wet noodle that had been run through a spin cycle, I smiled climbing back into the Jeep.

At my age, I don’t take any of this for granted. The ability to move my body. The privilege of showing up. The friends waiting beside me at the gym. The coffee waiting at home. The ridiculous concern that my sleepless night might somehow ruin pool opening day at Chez Kiki.

Ninety minutes earlier, I’d been carrying the weight of all my worries. Now, I was ready to tackle the rest of the day.

Another cup of coffee. A Zero Sugar Gatorade. This blog. Tiny sparks, perhaps, but enough to light the way forward.

The music hasn’t stopped yet.

So I’ll keep reading your words each morning. I’ll keep singing Buffett songs in the Jeep. I’ll keep sweating through workouts, opening the pool, loving my people, and writing these stories while I still can. And every once in a while, when fear tries to convince me that time is running out, I’ll answer it the only way I know how.

“And Kiki… there’s still so much to be done.”