I dreamed of you last night. You were younger than you were when you died. Not by a lot though. You were like you were before you got sick. You were being silly and a little bit of a sarcastic trouble maker. You were teasing your brothers at dinner. They were the age they are now though. Not the age that they were when you died, or the age you were in the dream.
You noticed. You turned to me, a laugh still on your voice, and asked me: Why am I only 12 years old? Why aren’t I older, like I should be?
Why am I only 12? Why am I sometimes 5 years old, or a baby, or 10, or 16? Why?
I smiled at you and said simply that it’s because you’re dead.
You are whatever age you are in our minds when we are thinking of you, when we dream of you and remember you.
Sometimes you are 16 and at the end of your life, angry and sad and unreachable. Other times you are that little boy who held my hand and sang silly songs as he walked beside me grinning as I laughed at you. Sometimes you are even what you never will be, the young boy grown into a man.
You looked at me and suddenly you were 16 again. Dressed like you were when I said goodbye for what I didn’t know was the last time. You shrugged, like you did a lot back then, and you smirked and said that it makes sense. Since you’re dead.
“the trouble is you think you have time”
I came across this quote today and thought instantly how much I needed to hear it today. It caught something in me and struck a nerve in that I have been seeing so much lately that I am procrastinating. From the plants that I want to re-pot to the furniture I want to refinish to the book I have been saying I’ll get to being serious about – it all just simmers under the surface and I keep telling myself that I will get to it…soon…just not today.
So I saw this quote and immediately all of this popped into my head and I thought, “I should write a little something about this and try to sort my head out with it all” and then I thought, “I’ll make a note to do it later so I don’t forget” …and there you have it. I have an entire list of notes of things that made me go “yeah! I want to write about that!”, but not the writing to go with the notes.
But instead, this time (after laughing out loud at the irony of that) I stopped what I was doing and opened up a new blank document and started typing.
The fact is that we don;t know how much time we have. Even if it’s not something final like death that will be the thing that stops us (and really,in that case, we probably won’t care too much, we’ll be dead), any number of things can pop up that will affect whether or not a dream or a goal can be followed through on.
I had great aspirations when I was 15 years old of all the things I wanted to do and places I wanted to see. I’m 44 now and none have been realized. I’m not dead, life just got in the way and I kept pushing things off and making other things a priority and voila, here I am almost 30 years later and still saying “someday”. If I’m not smart, 30 more years will be gone and I’ll be wishing I had chosen differently. Regret is not something I want to have with me in my golden years. Days have a way of running by and piling up, making days into weeks and weeks into months and before I know it, that draft of a book of writings if still just a draft and I am still going to start seriously working on it – someday.
The problem is that I keep thinking that I will get to those things eventually. These are things that I really want to do or achieve, so why don’t I? I’m not afraid of hard work or effort. That’s not it. So what it comes down to is that here is no reason. Turning over a new page and taking this to heart – and a blog post is written…now, and not “later”.