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.