I'll be the first to admit that you have to have nothing to do - or so much to do that you do not know where to start, so end up doing nothing eventually - to think of things like these. I have a lot to do tonight and this week. I have had a lot to do in the last two months. But I can't help thinking about this fact of life, ergo, it has found its way to this page.
You know, when you're living a moment, that is all there is. It fills up your life. You don't really stop to think that in another second, this moment will become part of your past, never to be recovered except in reminiscence. You certainly do not stop to think that it is also becoming part of your future, but in a quiet, unobtrusive way. Like this moment. Here. Now.
Because if you had known that the moment could never be recovered, you would have been more careful, and more accepting of its ephemeral nature. More appreciative, maybe. Less scared, perhaps, or more honest.
For several moments in the year that has passed, I have the same wistful longing now. It's useless, I know. Nothing's going to bring them back, least of all more time spent wishing them back into the present. But if I had known that, countless times last year, I was living the kind of moment that would never repeat itself, I would probably have been more careful with it, handled it with greater care. Living life on a no-regrets basis is great...but one of the problems is, if you do stop to turn and look back, you run the risk of being overwhelmed by instances of what could have been. Oh, dear God. There I go again. I hate what-ifs. I've lived my entire life on the principle that I wouldn't ever do anything that left room for a what-if. Everything would get the chance it deserved. Everything is worth a try. Sure, you fall and scrape a knee. But you also score one thing off the list of things you'd otherwise be wondering about at 84.
I'm sleepy and a little blue. I really don't know if the last ten sentences make any sense.
But I do know that if I had known I was living so many lasts last year, I'd probably have...I don't know. What would I probably have done? I do know I lived those moments off the top of my head, spontaneously, the only way I know...what would I have done differently? From that last visit in February to the last walk in April; from the last just-because trip in May to that last call; from that last journey in September to the last meeting in November...so many moments I wanted to grab with both hands and keep safe...all gone.
I'm getting bluer by the minute. I should probably turn in. Days have a way of behaving better once ended and begun afresh.