I ran into an old friend in June and while the overall conversation was positive, it escalated quite quickly. Pretty soon, we were talking about the end of the world because look at all that’s happening with AI and the other negative things around us. Despite desperately searching for a rebuttal, I seemingly couldn’t find much hope to offer at that moment. It seemed the weight of the world lay heavy on my shoulders.

But when I imagine the last day on earth, I imagine I’ll be thinking about the simple moments of joy and love that make life worth living. Like the delicious lemon Chiffon cake that my friend Charlotte made for her birthday last year or the kindness of the lady I once met at OR Tambo International Airport when I was single-handedly having the worst day of my life. I’ll be thinking about the warmth of loving and being loved and the little things that make us human, like asking, “How are you?” even when we don’t expect much of a truthful answer. I’ll remember the delight and absurdity of encores, Harry Potter reruns with my sisters.

I’ll be thinking about brewing a pot of earl grey at 16:30 and how satisfying it feels to write letters to loved ones on pretty paper. I’ll be thinking about that one time when I learned how to make sourdough croissants, which by the way took me five days to make.

I am no psychic, and I certainly don’t know what lies ahead, but I do like to believe that even in the face of uncertainty, there is still goodness left to fight for. All the quirks and idiosyncrasies that make us strange and beautiful are worth celebrating, and laughter and joy are always possible if we choose seek them out. I choose to believe in a better way. It’s a much better way of being, don’t you think?