This is supposed to be the point in my life where I look at the long winding road that has lead me here and consider the successes, the failures, and consider my regrets.
Is it rude to say I don’t have any?
It isn’t that I think I am perfect because I am so far from that I laugh to think I ever allowed myself to live trying to achieve that, and then cried when I fell short. It isn’t that I cannot see or feel the pain, the heartache, the darkness, the problems all around me. I am not living with some rose coloured glasses on pretending the world is all beer and skittles. I recognize that every detail of my life’s journey is shaded many colours both dark and light and I am grateful for the ability I gained to use it all to grow and learn.
I don’t even miss people or places. I love that some people and places touched me on such a level that I only have to close my eyes and I am there again. I can feel them to the point that I give away my present moments to their honour. What a gift to have had those types of experiences. Even the painful ones, that are so sharp they can make me bleed, remind me that I will not repeat the actions that placed me there. They are jewels of a different kind. But I don’t wish that they were here or that I could go back because you can’t go back to anything. Even if some miracle could transport you, how would you recognize anything? You are not that person any more. Continue reading