If I Had It To Do All Over Again

I often contemplate the words of that title. It’s almost like asking “What Is The Meaning Of Life“.

What I really think is I wouldn’t change all that much for my own benefit. I would probably go at things at a little slower pace, in an attempt to make things easier on my now aging bones.

I could always say that I should have spent less and saved more, but perhaps that was always a motivating force to continue to forge ahead.

What I think about a lot are the missed opportunities to spend more time friends and loved ones. There are so many things swirling around us in our lives that it’s easy to find an excuse for putting off a visit or even a phone call. That person you don’t contact today, may not be here tomorrow.

Even a sending a person a text telling them you were thinking of them and adding the simple “give me a call sometime when we can talk”. You may be surprised how much more you may be connecting with those people in your life, when you initiate it. Many people feel it an intrusion to just call, but when you open the door that barrier is dropped down.

5 thoughts on “If I Had It To Do All Over Again

  1. The date under the post said, June 22. I’m seeing it on August 30. If this is a re-post, thanks for doing it. I needed that today. If this is a delayed post, well, I needed it today anyway. Good thoughts, those. Keep on thinking them and sharing them.


    1. I actually started writing it on June 22 and left it in my drafts folder.
      I often do that. I think I have a couple of dozen stories started currently. It’s the best way for me to capture thoughts.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I sometimes write more than one a day and schedule them for daily posting into the future. Right now I’m set for 4PM EDT from now through October 3rd. That’s a lotta’ Psalms.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. My writing is sporadic. Scheduling posts to come out one per day, though, makes me appear to be more organized and stable than I am. A friend in Cyprus commented last summer, when I was still writing Taiwan reflections, that he admired my “diesel-engine-like” dependability. Little did he know the fits and starts of my writing life. Like a bandage can disguise a festering wound, scheduling release covers the ugliness of my process.


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