Hey Mom, I am prompted this week to look back and see what of this year I would change, if I could. I know, not a Calvert trait whatsoever. Nothing good ever comes from regrets.
Yet I can not deny I’ve had a few. Or, perhaps a better word may be do-overs. Or better yet, a button one could push that would allow us the power every once in a while to re-enact the last stupid thing we did, say the words we did not speak, or words we would retract. Maybe words we wish we had never heard.
I struggle with regrets, but not from the myriad of things I wish I could do again, but rather that I find it so difficult to freely write about my past in the voice of regrets, and do-overs. I really struggle to regret. I only ever focus on the positive, the result of, and the futility of regret I suppose taints my ability to in fact regret, and write about said regret.
I have this blood of Grandma’s firmly coursing through my veins I guess, and therefore I am may not completely ever partake in the lethargy of regret… the Salt of the earth, feet firmly fixed, look ahead and not behind with anything but fondness Calvert in me won’t allow it.
However, if I sneak up on it, I may just be able to circumnavigate that DNA. As I am compelled this time, I suppose, since it is not with regret as much as a hope for the future. And what pray tell am I on about you may ask?
I’ve decided that looking back I can more clearly see the error of my ways. Only with hindsight can I see where I went wrong, and what look or sly change in emotion I missed. Or maybe it was the word I said, maybe to the wrong person, at the wrong time. Or what I enjoyed more: getting drunk in a bar and feeling elation for 3 hours – OR – waking up early Saturday morning and feeling fresh air on ones face and satisfaction all day of feeling happy and whole the entire weekend through.
Oh, those quiet, whispered “ifs” though. If I’d only turned away for good in August from Mr.Blue.Eyes. If I’d only had more resolve.
I can so clearly now see the standard hallmarks of this ill-fated attraction. However this time I caught it early. I stamped all over that thing, and made good and sure the beast was gone, once I’d identified it. Next time I will know it by its smell, and surely I have learned to look away and carry-on.
Surely this time, eh Mom?
Well, this morning I have to myself, as I don’t have to be to work till noon. So I have this wonderful little string of hours to lounge within a few regrets. I can almost hear Grandma whispering, regret tis a futile thing to carry around with you, but not a bad way to spend a few hours with, as long as good may come of it.