To Economists (last letter)

Daybreak arrives with more decisions to make. I remember that my body is my body, that I’ve done so much and too little, that this has always been my life.
I stretch and stand, reflexively grateful for the colourful sky, my wife and our children, birdsong and street noise, the thought of coffee and feeling in my toes.
Then, within an almost imperceptible fraction of a second, I am destroyed and remade by everything everywhere at once, the totality of the present caught in my reflection.
What will mean what tomorrow? On the radio one of you insists we get back to work. I turn it off before showering.