Rambling Anecdote, Personal Imagery, Secular Epiphany and Powerless Rant -- My opportunity to express my opinion, whether anyone ever listens or not. Instant gratification, another two-word phrase.

Monday, July 4, 2016

Too Late

After a week of dreary weather, today was wondrous, bright sunshine, no wind. I wanted to go bicycle riding, but I give up a block from home. My bike’s broken, whether it’s the brakes or gears doesn’t matter. Walking it home, I start crying and I can’t stop.

The most tragic words in life are Too Late.
  • When I had lapband surgery at 54, I feared it was too late to get my life back.
  • When I did get healthy, it was too late to have a child, but not too late to return to teaching.
  • Last summer, it was too late for cosmetic surgery to turn me into a hot babe, but not too late to feel comfortable in my own skin.
  • At 60, if I want to be a ballerina, it’s probably too late.
  • And, today, it’s too late to ride my bicycle.
My parents, step-parents, and grandparents are all gone and I know each of them died with some things undone -- and it’s too late for them.

Too late is tragic because one recognizes what might have been, because one must acknowledge lost opportunity; one must be profoundly self-aware.

I don’t want my last words to be “Too Late.” I will
  • find the time and money to go back to Italy and walk in the steep streets of Siena
  • contact Bonnie O’Malley and apologize for hurtful words our senior year in high school
  • write more poetry and submit some poems for publication
  • say “Thank You” more often to the people who make my life better
  • ride a boat up the Nile and climb the pyramids
  • keep in better touch with friends and family
  • hear (and say) the words “I love you” so many times I get bored with them
  • take more photographs
  • volunteer for Habitat for Humanity
  • be a docent at a local museum
  • keep this blog updated
  • ride my bicycle again
  • discover more things I want to do before it’s too late

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