Time, Who Cares?

Everyday I think of my past, what I can remember. Age, getting old, is by far the impetus for such incessant remembering. The journey from one time, youth, to another time, now, is littered with sign posts. Some were heeded, others obviously not. Now, retrospectively, I can analyze choices made, and the ramifications which occurred. Which brings me to regret. I have to admit, I have many regrets, but what, if any, role do they play in my everyday life. No role whatsoever I say. Sitting here, at this computer, writing what I think, is a blessing. A blessing, because I made a wrong choice, or many wrong choices, long ago? Maybe, a decision which in turn led me to these words. So should I regret that, as a wrong turn somewhere in the past. No. Value is defined in one sense, the quality (positive or negative) that renders something desirable or valuable. Now able to express myself, is most desirable, therefore has a great deal of value for me. Hence the journey of life, following or avoiding sign posts, zigging and zagging whimsically, or despairingly, is defined by the desire of that moment. All valuable in the end.
     It's the Christmas season. When I think of seasons, I think of Nature's seasons, or a baseball season, in other words a lengthy period of time. The Christmas season has become, or maybe it always was, much too long. But what is intrinsically desirable (valuable) about Christmas is the convergence of family and friends. I like Christmas movies. Movies that depict grown children returning to their family homes. The notion of wallowing in familiar sights and aromas. Seeing a bedroom untouched by time, or a dad snug in a worn chair watching football, a mom stirring a holiday tradition in a large bowl, siblings arriving with presents and smiles, is what we anticipate and desire. The value of the season.

into the sunset I go

     Sentimental. I'm sentimental for memories and experiences in the future. A regret, of course. I'd love to witness my grandchildren returning to their childhood homes as adults. When I visit my son's homes, I see the incubation, the embryonic stages of holiday traditions. It warms my heart, simply because they are extensions of our traditions, desires, values and they will nurture and augment them for posterity. As I slip and slide off this mortal coil, I'm blessed with family, sentiment, regrets, extremely valuable. I guess I'm valuable!

the future I'll miss