The thin invisible line

It used to stretch out before me - an infinite number of days that seemed never-ending. When I was 11 I wanted to be 12, when I was 12 I couldn't wait to be 16, and when I turned 16 I thought life would be perfect at 21. It was like I was expecting that once that line has been crossed my life would miraculously be different, or better, or something. What did I know at 11, 12, 16, or 21 anyway? The anticipation of life experiences seemed to be foreshadowed by the notion that life experiences just happen once you reach a certain age. Boy was I disappointed when I finally caught up with reality!

At the beginning of 2009 I crossed a major line. Actually, two blue lines in a small window on a stick brought me to tears, and I was standing at the crossroads of my life wondering which path to take. Once you cross that line there is no turning back. I crossed it, and I've never been the same since, and that's a good thing.

Ideology is important to me, and I'm finding myself standing at a few intersections right now. These metaphorical junctions happen to be lines in my head that I've calculated and drawn, and to be frank are minor and pretty meaningless. They mean something to me.

I had a conversation with a friend the other day where I tried verbalizing the opportunity cost that float around in my head. I don't want to reach the end of the line, look back and curse myself for not doing the stuff I conceptualised. I want to live with no regrets, knowing full well that life is short, and that we only live once. I want adventure. I want extraordinary. I want stories of been-there-done-that. I want experiences that speak volumes in my heart and linger long in my head. My friend asked me "are you dying?". The answer is no, and yes. We all face a finite number of days/months/years, and I realise how precious that time is. I recognise this only because I see how quickly my child is growing up before my very eyes, and I only have x time with him before he too will be 11 wanting to be 12, 12 anticipating 16, 16 wishing he was 21, and so on. I just hope I give him enough for him to enjoy the now and not wish for the next.

This thin invisible line is always at my forefront. I see it as a line of promises kept, wonders fulfilled, adventures realised. Once I cross it I will proclaim "I've lived!"

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I'm linking this post with some talented writers who have moved me with their lyrical offerings.