Its way past midnight and sleep just continues to elude me. I’ve been tossing and turning in bed for a while now and in the process my brand new black Zara Home sheet looks crumpled and old. Sorry Toshiko, but I think you’re going to have to gift me some new ones. Maybe even throw in a couple of gift cards this time! 🙂
There are so many thoughts spinning around in my mind and as much as I’ve tried, I cannot seem to silence them. This weekend, I’ve been ruminating over things that keep resurfacing every now and again. Suddenly I find myself thinking about my past experiences, mistakes I’ve made, little personal victories I’ve won and the many things I could have avoided along the way.
Have you ever wished you could go back in time and warn yourself before you make a big mistake? Or maybe just have the ability to pop in on yourself at just the right moment? This is a commonly recurring theme in my life and I referred to it earlier in my post ‘If I could write a letter to me’.
So many times, especially when I’m in a thoughtful or pensive mood or if I’m listening to slow rock from the 80’s or 90’s, I wonder If I could go back and tell my 1998 (your year may vary… I’ve picked a year when I was probably at the peak of my awkward angsty youth) self anything, what would I choose to say?
This evening, as I lay in bed I envisioned it happening. I went back to myself as a child. I went up to him and said:
“Hello.” he looked up at me with those big deep brown eyes and said ‘hi’. If that really happened there would be so many things I would want to say.
I want to tell him not to be afraid and if he thinks he is right to stick to his beliefs, and not to listen to all the people who give him unwarranted advice. I want to tell him to spend more time with his friends and make the most of every experience. There will be so little time when he’s older. I want to tell him to shed his many inhibitions, to laugh more, to play more, to do something sporty or enjoy the outdoors more, for when he’s older he will have so little time for that. My mind races with the million things I want to tell him: some trivial, some profound.
But in the middle of this unexpected reverie, I am forced to pause and question. Does my heart only go out to him because I know the road that he is going to walk? Am I tempted to warn him and tell him certain things I know that he is yet to discover only so he can avoid those experiences himself? But more importantly, will he turn out differently without those experiences and without those regrets? After all, good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment. Do I really want to change the past?
I just wonder….