Every day brings a fresh sunrise, every night a new sunset. At the end of those days, when night no longer meets a morning light, we all have different ideas of what awaits. Some hope that following our last, dying breath there resides an afterlife, while others believe this to be true, but no one with a pulse could ever know. Death is like walking through a door with an unfamiliar room ready to reveal itself on the other side. But this room is one that locks itself the moment you enter. There is no return – no one but those who pass through its threshold know its true furnishings. Does it withhold lifelessness or a second life? Do our spirits rise from our unmoving cadavers buried six feet under, like water evaporating from a drying stream? If I were privileged with the choice, I would choose not to be expunged from this world the moment I pass, like chalk-written phrases wiped from the blackboard in one foul swoop. Ideally, in the spiritual sense, I would hope that there are other worlds than this. Today, the average life span of a human is approximately sixty-seven years old. The earth is approximately 4.57 billion years old. You and I will be alive for 1.5 - 6 percent of the world’s existence. For me, this is extremely sobering. I feel my physical existence on this planet is similar to a single falling raindrop in a century’s worth of storms. By definition, he may have been an idiot but Forrest Gump did get one thing right. Life is like a box of chocolates – you certainly never know what you’re going to get. Tomorrow might hold true love or bring trying times but, regardless, by breaking the bed sheets and getting up at first light we not only begin our day but also bring about the dawn of endless possibility. The future might include predicted events but one surely cannot predict the future. Even if we could, what would be the consequence? Unraveling the secrets of tomorrow might unravel the incentive of reaching it. The anticlimax of opening ribbon-wrapped Christmas presents before the daybreak of the 25th proves this point. Life gives itself meaning through the unknown. If living was as monotonous and expected as an episode of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, besides an alarm clock, why would we ever wake up? As for self-significance, some imagine themselves as a microscopic entity on a blade of grass, lost in a field beneath an infinite universe while others consider themselves the center of all existence. Even if space has no end, and galaxies apart from our own cannot be measured, I believe you and I are no less necessary than a three-toed, two-hearted extraterrestrial from a galaxy far, far away or Bob Barker, for that matter. I take that back – if there ever was a superior life form, Bob would be it. Life is as unexpected as what inevitably awaits in the afterlife, or lack thereof. As for the meaning of life, death and everything else, look past your windowpane as the sun sinks below the horizon or into the eyes of a loved one, and you’ll know.