Ramblings Post #422
One of the great tragedies of life is regret. In the looking back upon the road you decided to travel and imagining that another path would have been better. Or in my case, just different. I suffer no illusions that someone other than I am responsible for my circumstances. I made these choices. They weren't always good. But like everyone, I had a vision of how my life was supposed to be. And my mind, my imagination, it plays that life out for me. Not a "better" life, just different.
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| PROBABLY NOT HERE. NO BACKYARD |
There were supposed to be dinner parties. Yes, dinner parties, and YES, it sounds bougie. Where I would have invited over five or seven people and I would have spent hours on a Sunday cooking for them. Not during football season, of course. And we'd have drink found wines and discussed things of great importance, odd minutiae and inadvertently work through childhood trauma. There would have been light jazz or old unto ancient hip hop playing at a low volume. There would been tense moments and raucous laughter. One weekend I would have declared my house a shoe free zone and forgotten about it a few months later. After dinner, a the back patio or deck we'd have sipped whiskey, smoked cigars and engaged in despicable small talk as we watched the sky darken. Maybe a fire pit or loose lights. I wouldn't want to clean up but would have to, lest the house smell like that dinner for two days.
I envy what might have been. I have come to envy the mundane.
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