I could have a baby or I could buy a banjo I could write down my dreams each morning instead of eagerly surrendering them to the abyss of unmemory I could read the labels on food packaging buy organic eggs from happy chickens force myself to care about microplastics I could be Tiktok famous (if you ask my best friends who love me more than I deserve) or I could throw my phone into the river I could subscribe to the local newspaper I could do the crossword in pen I could volunteer my time for the needy or I could finally try psychedelics I could read a book about geology I could take a nap in a public park I could learn what a mutual fund is I could pretend I believe banks will still exist by the time I’m old enough to retire I could grow candy-colored dahlias and sell them by the stem at a roadside stand I could move to Lincoln, Nebraska, because I saw a really good sunset there once I could go to grad school (again) I could spend hundreds of dollars dying my hair blonde I could swear off mirrors swear off meat swear off men I could redownload Hinge and try harder this time to be enthusiastic about the hobbies of strangers or I could spend the rest of my life writing elegies for the hand I once held on a basement dance floor I could talk to my therapist about how thinking about death makes me lightheaded instead of spending 50 minutes overanalyzing minute social interactions I could sell my soul for the low, low price of $120,000 a year and a health insurance plan or I could plant garlic in the backyard (there might still be time before the first frost) I could be less sarcastic I could be less judgmental I could call my grandparents every week I could memorize a poem I could clean out my car or I could study witchcraft for the sole purpose of putting a hex on whoever decided white cloth seats were a reasonable choice for a Subaru Forester I could hold more grudges in general I could write letters to the editor and become known as a local political gadfly I could delete the news apps and go live off-grid and learn to hunt learn to draw learn to whittle bird figurines out of willow boughs I could start a pyramid scheme I could bike across the country I could sail across the world I could learn to paraglide I could literally learn to fly I could summon some real ambition for once I could live up to the promise of my second-grade report card I could die for a noble cause I could hand make all my Christmas presents I could unspool a tidy and sensible life or I could snap its threads between my teeth I could chase my fifteen minutes I could change the world for a day or I could wait to see how the afternoon light will move across my living room wall I could wonder how long it’s been since I sat and watched the earth spin.

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Margaret Grayson is a writer from southwest Colorado. She’s a graduate of the University of Montana School of Journalism and has an MFA in creative nonfiction from Washington University in St. Louis. You can find her online at her website or somewhere in the desert.

Artwork by Michael Todd Cohen