These last few years have been unusually regretful. I’m not big on looking back, holding grudges, or storing anger, but in one way or the other, between the crazies and their aluminum foil hats and politicians who have gone from inept to downright mean — plus the volume of hate, distrust, and anger rolling around, it’s hard not be regret the mess in which we have landed.
If we had a government that really wanted to “make things better” not just for his personal circle of sleaze-balls, but for all of us, might it have been less difficult? Would fewer people have died? Would all that lurking hatred not have spewed forth like a dead volcano that just came to life?
I’d like to think so, but there’s no way to know. Certainly all that hatred without a president urging it on might have been kept at least somewhat in check — but maybe it was just sitting there waiting for “the moment” to cover us all in hot ash and lava. Whatever we think might have happened, we’ll never know.
Regrets are pointless. All they do is weigh us down and make the future heavy. Sometimes I’m sure this is Mother Nature giving humanity her payback. She deserves it. Who better?
We have all been affected by bad government and disease. Garry and I have lost many people over the past few years. None of COVID, but many might have lived longer (and better) had they not been warned to avoid over-burdened hospitals and waited too long for treatment. Even the bizarre anti-vaxxers might not have been quite so crazy and more amenable to reason had they not been given a mighty push into their miscellaneous versions of lunacy.
We have all been damaged — directly and indirectly. Every time we think this time, we’ve crossed the hill to the grassy side of the mountain, we discover the rocks strewn about the fields are landmines.
Watch out for your feet!
It’s not merely that I regret these past years. It’s that these stolen years come at a time when we would normally wonder how many years we have. I never expected to live this long. Maybe it’s a gift on some level? I don’t know. Garry and I have “outlived” ourselves. For different reasons, we never expected to continue as long as we have. Whatever gripes and complaints we’ve got about bad backs, permanently dislocated shoulders, and age-related exhaustion? We are here — alive and functional (within limits) — but able to live our lives.
Now — about hopes? I think we are living a pretty good life. We don’t have enough money and I wish I had a bit more “oomph” left. My “snap, crackle, and pop” went soggy with all the milk soaking the puffed rice. Still, I’m trying something new and still doing stuff I used to do. For the most part, I’m enjoying it.
Both of us have slowed down, but life in the slow lane is still LIFE.
I never imagined I would live long enough to see so many of our friends already gone while we somehow persist. I think this probably would be considered good luck, but it is also strange. Garry is — for a guy his age — in remarkably good shape. Not the shape he wants to be in, but it’s impressive nonetheless. And me, after so many surgeries and near-death experiences — am still here. With warnings and limitations, but here.
Hopes? I AM going to learn to draw and paint. I think I’m recognizing what I can’t do. At least I don’t feel like I missed my true profession. This is not a great gift I’m exploring, but I’m enjoying the exploration anyway. I do one drawing well and the next one looks like a kindergartner did it using old stubby crayons. I’m finding me annoying and I do a lot of internal scolding of me to me.
I would very much hope that laughter and joy to come back into our lives. I’m not picky about how — just that it happens. Soon would be nice. We’ve dodged all the bullets so far, but there are some weirdos out there with machine guns who would just as soon see us gone.
Meanwhile, until the bullets hit or one of those landmines explode, there are the birds, squirrels, chipmunks and a huge hawk living in a tall tree about an acre away from the deck, the woodpeckers are munching down every bug they can dig out of the older trees. There are flowers that grow before the strangling weeds get to them. There are sunny days that pop up even when the forecast calls for a storm.
I don’t want to look too far ahead. You can do that when you’re young, but at our ages, it is a bit chilling. I’m just happy that we’re here, alive, and seem likely to stay alive for a while to come.
Really, considering all the stumbling blocks everyone faces every day, isn’t that how the future is for everybody? Death steals the young, not merely the old.
My first husband — RIP Jeff — used to say he was planning to be run over by an out-of-control beer truck, after which he was going to become an oak tree. I’ve got a lot of oaks out back. Out front too.
Hey oaks! Are one of you a Jeff?