So, the rapture clearly didn't happen. I know that the rapture and The End of the World As We Know It aren't exactly interchangeable, but still, just in case those nutjobs were actually right and the rapture was happening today, I went to Yogurt Land and had pizza last night. Also I thought about the word "rapture" and how it sounds so unpleasant- like a celebrity couple name for "rape" and "capture". Or a scary super-smart dinosaur that hunts in packs and only eats nonbelievers. (Look out! it's a veloci-rapture!)
If I am honest, I have to say this day never seemed like more than an opportunity for bad jokes (as opposed to an actual confrontation with my mortality.) After it became clear that I'd given myself permission to consume excess calories for really no good reason (I'm actually rather OK with it, to be honest) I got to thinking about the End (impending or otherwise). The world will end for each of us, in our own time. And, when we are faced with what Elizabeth Cady Stanton called "that solemn solitude of self", that final hour when it is only us and death and no one to stand between us, I suspect we won't know or care if the world is ending just for us or for every one else as well. We probably won't have much warning- particularly not in the form of helpful bilboards and pamphlets from sidewalk preachers- but I hope that before each of us finds that day we have time to go to whatever our personal Yogurt Land might be.
So tonight I raise a glass to the end of days, whenever that may be, and the hope that we face it with humor, grace, and frozen yogurt. And to you, my friends. Good night.
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