Soon I'll be sixty years old, my daddy got sixty-one.
I am thirty years old. My parents are still alive, but my mother-in-law died three years ago at age fifty-eight. I know some people live to be in their nineties and hopefully I will too.
But I might not.
I'm relatively healthy. A few minor conditions losing some weight would probably cure, but nothing life threatening. But I could get hit by a car or take a bad fall down the stairs, or any number of things and be gone.
This is not a morbid, worrying about dying post.
But that lyric got me thinking. If I did die, what would my regrets be?
I would regret not getting to grow old with my husband, not getting to watch my children grow up. Of course, I'm blessed with faith in God and I believe in an afterlife, so I expect I'd spend time up there keeping an eye on the loves of my life.
My life is good. I'm married to an incredible man. I have three wonderful children. I am a stay-at-home mom and I'm very fulfilled with that vocation.
But one regret did instantly spring to mind.
I would regret all the stories not yet written. I'm not good at devoting the time I should to writing. I get distracted by Netflix and playing games on my phone and the like. And then I'm too tired to write, so I put it off.
I have written one book. It is with beta readers, and I'm doing my best not to dwell on it while it's out of my hands. I have started a second one and barely got into it.
I have so many book ideas within me. Stories that I want to share with the world or at least my family. Regardless of whether or not I get any of my books published, I want to get them written. And I understand that that is an impossible goal since the more I write and see the world through a writer's eyes, the more book ideas I get. But the idea of dying without making a valiant effort to get the stories swimming inside me out onto paper (or, to be literal, into my laptop), that would be a huge regret.
Isaac Asimov's quote saying "If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster." makes sense to me. Although, six minutes wouldn't be nearly enough time to get out a story, and I'd probably want to spend those remaining few minutes cuddling my family, but I very much feel those words.
Our lives are full of countless minutes. There are so many distractions to take away from the time we have to write (or do whatever else you are passionate about). But when our time comes, will we look back at our time on Earth and regret not finishing re-watching that second season of Charmed, or regret not finishing the stories we are filled with?
I know how I want to spend my time. How do you want to spend yours?
