I would like to believe that we are all born with an hourglass within us, and the sand within it starts to trickle down the moment we emerge into this universe. Every one of us has a different amount of sand in our hourglasses, and eventually, when the last grain of sand joins its fallen comrades at the bottom of the hourglass, our time is up and we go to a better place. I don’t know how much sand I have left in my hourglass, it may be a mountain or I may be down to my last handful! And it is what I do with this sand that will define whether my life was one well lived.

Inevitably, the mountains of sand in my hourglass would be reduced to a tiny mound. By that time, even if my spirit is strong, the shell which protects it from the elements would already be worn out; cracks from illnesses, holes from words that pierce and pale from the exhaustion of life. I picture myself sitting on a porch, the stars above me twinkling cheekily and the frigid night wind tussling my bone-white strands of hair. I would know deep inside that I would not see many more nights, perhaps fewer than the amount of fingers I have on my hands. But yet I would smile, beaming, almost glowing with satisfaction, for I know I have lived a life with no regrets. To leave this world knowing that I have used every last grain of my sand to its fullest. That would be the greatest achievement.