27126 Days Traveled — What’s Ahead?

This morning I calculated a number: How many days have I lived until now?

I got the number 27126. That’s the number of days I have lived until today.

The question is: How many days will I get?

Will I live for 27200 days? Or 30000? 32000?

It’s a bit odd to think about it. And a little scary. Usually, I never think of that number.

Usually, I live my life and I do the things I am used to doing.

I wake up, I get up, I have breakfast. In the morning I go for a walk. It’s raining, but it’s not cold. I walk by the store. I buy milk, bread, and two bananas.

When I get home I take out the vacuum cleaner and vacuum the living room and hallway. When I hang the vacuum cleaner hose back in its place, I hear a sound from my mobile. I open my mobile and see that a famous football coach has died. He lived for 80 years; he was six years older than I am now.

I think a little about the dead football coach. Then I open my computer and read the news. The White House reports that war could break out at any time.

I go into the living room and turn on the TV. There’s no extra news broadcast, so I turn off the TV and open the news messages on my mobile again. I see an article with a picture of a woman talking from a lectern in front of a blue background in the White House: “War could break out at any time”.

I click away from the news message and put on music from a playlist on the loudspeakers.

I prepare dinner for the two of us. We have dinner together. My wife says that according to the Americans, war can break out at any time. “It’s on the news,” she says.

“Yes,” I answer, “I saw it.”

We are quiet during the rest of the meal. I get up and go and get my cell phone. I open the browser and look for messages under Foreign News.

My wife is sitting with her cell phone. She smiles as she looks at the screen.

“You smile,” I say. “Why are you smiling? What are you looking at?”

She gives me a look with a smile in. She turns the phone so that I can see the screen. I see a new picture of our grandchildren. I feel my face smile. I meet her gaze. She smiles back.

I see through the window behind her that the evening falls on outside the window. I think: Another day will soon be over.

We clear the table and go and sit on the sofa. Outside, the rain has stopped. The TV is not on. We sit with the phones. A little later I bring out a book I intend to read. My wife wants us to watch a movie together.

After the episode, we’re talking a little.

We’re waiting for the night to come.

I go out on the balcony and look up towards the forest. There is an owl who’s sitting hidden on its mountain ledge, some distance up the slope, above our house. I will try to see if the owl flies by.

Owls fly without sound. It’s just like time. I do not notice it, but time passes. Time flies, with little sound, past me.

It’s soon midnight. I’m going in again. I say good night. I go into the bedroom. I see lights from two cars that drive north on the road at the other side of the valley.

I think about my days. Another day has passed. How was this day? What did I accomplish? How many such days do I have left?

I try to think of a word that sums up my present feeling. It’s not bitterness. It’s not revenge. Not hatred. Not loneliness. Not even fear.

I live. Still alive, no serious illnesses, no big loss lately.

I try to find that word.

Øivind H. Solheim writes fiction, essays and articles aiming to help others understanding life, other humans and themselves. He has published five novels, two non-fiction books and a poetry book.

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