652

Welcome back! It’s nice to see you. It’s been a while, what have you been up to?

Oh, me? I’ve just been lazy. No motivation, therefore no blogging. But thanks for thinking the best and assuming I’ve been busy. That’s nice of you.

But let’s get back to it, shall we?

We’ll start small, no need to come back with a thousand word treatise on corporate greed or abortion legislation. We can stay light here. Let’s talk about when I’m going to die.

I’ve been thinking about my death date lately, because Literary Hub recently posted an article that helps to predict how many books you have left to read before you die. If I live to the average age for an American, and continue on my average reading pace from the last few years, they predict I’ll read approximately 652 more books before I die.

652! That’s it!

I mean, yes, on the surface, 652 books feels like a lot of books. But let’s break that down. On average, I read 5 to 1 novels to nonfiction, and at least three of those novels are things like The Song of the Quarkbeast, which is a very entertaining and witty story but certainly isn’t going to have a huge impact on my life. Which means that for every six books I read, three of them might make me a better person. So we’re down to 326 meaningful books before I die.

This realization is alarming when I consider how many books I’m currently in the process of reading. This is my up-to-date, “I’m actively in the middle of this book,” stack:

Those are all the books that I’ve started, am at least semi-interested in, but have not finished. This does not include three shelves of books I want to read but have not started. Or books that I started and finally, after several years, conceded I can no longer claim to be actively reading them. And yes, you’re absolutely right, I have a book problem. But if you’ve ever been to my parents’ house, you know I come by it honestly.

Regardless, the sudden realization that I only have 652 books left before I die startled me. Which 652 books will I choose? How will those 652 books change my life? Should I ever force myself to finish a book I’m not excited about? Basically, the reminder of my mortality has shaken me.

So here’s what I’ve decided: by the end of 2019, this stack will be gone. I will have either finished or accepted defeat on each and every one of these books. Because I don’t want to die with unread books weighing on my heart. Do you?

Alright. For me, my mortality is reflected in books. But what is it for you? What things do you need to remember you only have so many left of, so you remember to live instead of wait? Sunrises? Brunches? Glasses of wine? Conversations with your mother? Winters in snowstorms? Summers at the beach? What can you number to remind yourself to experience that number to the fullest?

Let’s make 2019 the year of getting the most out of something specific before we die. What do you say?