Now

[Spoken – deep, warm male voice, thoughtful, conversational] I once heard a little girl sing about tomorrow. She seemed so certain of it. As though tomorrow were somewhere she could go. And I remember thinking how wonderful that must be. [Instrumental – sparse piano, low strings] I’ve been thinking about tomorrow myself. Not particularly worried about it. Not especially looking forward to it. Just wondering. When tomorrow becomes today, what happens to tomorrow? Does it disappear? Or is there always another one waiting just beyond the next midnight? [Pause] I suppose I’ve never really arrived at a tomorrow. Every time I thought I had, it was today. [Instrumental passage] And today is a curious thing. Part of it has already happened. Part of it hasn’t happened yet. And somewhere between the two there must be something we call now. [Spoken slowly, with silence between each word] Now. [Pause] Now. [Pause] Now. [Long instrumental pause – piano and cello] Perhaps the little girl understood something I don’t. She wasn’t trying to reach tomorrow. She was simply happy that it was there. [Long pause] I think I’d like to live a little more in the moment. Perhaps I’ll start tomorrow. [Instrumental outro – slowly fading]