If you had to relive one day of your life over and over and could choose which day, which day would you choose?
So. I'm sitting here under a beautiful tree...you should see these colors!...thinking about today's prompt.
There are days I think I should choose.
Like, you know...days of accomplishment, scholastic, professional, etc. All that is nice, but really, I think I'd be bored with that after about two weeks of it.
Then there are the days my children were born and other very happy milestone days in their lives. But, I have four of them. How would I ever choose between them? I don't think I could!
Perhaps I should choose to relive the last day I spent with my dad? It was a good day for us, but with unlimited repeat, I'm sure I could make it so much better!
And then what about my last day (or any day, they were almost all good) with my mom? Do I get to be aware that she is dead in the present, non-repeating universe so that I can say the things I think she knew but should have said aloud?
I know...I could choose my wedding day with my ex! Now, that was a perfect day if there ever was one! I don't think I'd want to know how soon it would all start to turn to shit, though. That would make it too bittersweet.
All this thinking, and all the choices I could make, and I keep coming back to the day that Mike and I said "I love you" for the first time.
That relationship was doomed, though we didn't know it at the time. There's nothing like a little bit of cancer to fill a man with guilt and remorse and send him running back to the mother of his child. And I wasn't going to wait around like some vulture, anxious to pick apart the pieces of that woman's life to take what I wanted when it was all over.
But, oh, did I ever wish and dream from afar that it would somehow work out okay, that she would survive and he could still be mine.
Life is a funny, fickle bitch, though...and when she recovered, Mike was still too overcome with guilt to ever want me again. So, he ended up married again, after all, and now belongs to some ugly old heifer he knew when he was 20. shrugs It took awhile, but I got over it.
Still. He loved me, once. And he was the first man to ever love me, ME...all of me, without any caveats or if-onlys. To him, I was beautiful. Just as I am, body, soul, mind, and heart. I think that's why he was so difficult to get over. So, maybe I should choose the day he first said he loved me.
But, you know what? If I chose that day (or any other), then I'd be robbing myself of today...and all my tomorrows. So...for now, I think I'll pass.
In a few minutes, another man who loves me will be out of his meeting. He will come out here, smile to see me sitting under this tree, with a few stray fallen leaves still where they landed in my hair, and he will sit down beside me and kiss me and say, "Hey, Darlin...you didn't have to wait for me!"
Oh. But I did. And I'll do it again. Because this one is worth the wait. I wouldn't give up one tomorrow with him for a lifetime of what's gone before.
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