If I had forever
If I had forever, I’m not sure I would do anything differently, but I am afraid that I would. I use limited time as a prompt, or maybe a prod. I wait until the last second to really get moving, so maybe if I had forever, I’d never start.
Limited time, then, is a kind of gift. An opportunity – Act now! – to get things done, to let things go, to say the things that need to be said. If I had forever, would I write? Would I be able to tell my poker friends I love them? Would I be able to find a gentle excuse to end a call with a lonely friend who just needs to not be by herself? Would I choose, over and over, to dive deeper into love and adventure with my sweetie?
It’s appealing to imagine all the things I could do, would do, if I had forever. But I have a hunch that I’d get lost in the lack of urgency and become even less productive, less a part of this amazing world that Mary Oliver invites us to explore.
If I had forever, I hope I wouldn’t change things, because the path I’ve chosen has brought me more love and light and laughter and wonder than I ever could imagine.
Time, in its fleetingness, helps me to see the choices arrayed before me all the more clearly.