There’s this chalk wall on Granville between the train and the lake where people lay it all out, their hopes and dreams. Their one big thing, the one you think of when you think of death, and follow it up immediately with a prayer, a quick rap on wood, a not yet. I found the wall the day I quit my job. Not the day I gave notice, but my actual last day, only an hour or so after I left my office for good. If I’d found it a month earlier, it would have been one more pound on my chest. It might have done me in. Because I have so many big things, we all do, and I wasn’t doing one of them. I wasn’t even moving in the direction of maybe possibly thinking about doing one of them. Luckily I found the wall on the sunshiniest day of the year, when my heart and lungs and eyes and sky were wide open. I walked the length of, taking it in. Before I die, I want to: be an ironman, travel the world, learn to play the saxophone, speak Arabic, find my dream job, marry my partner legally in Illinois, smoke weed legally in Illinois, smoke weed in a cop car, make my parents proud, make him love me. Before I die I want to be happy. I didn’t write anything down. Not even a few days later when the whole wall was blank, washed clean in the early morning after an all night rain. If I can only choose one thing, I think I’m still zeroing in on it. What about you?