Regrets

We regret the things we didn't do more than the things we've done... I don't want to be occupied on my death bed (at the age of 117, of course) with thoughts of all the things I never got to do. The places I never saw. The souls I never met. The music that I never danced to...

Regrets? Mine are scant. I am sure that I've hurt more than a few feelings along the way.  Told a few untruths here and there to save face or spare more hurt feelings.  I've never hurt someone intentionally, however. As for white lies, I'm sure my own life wouldn't be as pretty without them, either. No, I really don't have any real regrets.

Yesterday I indulged in a Sunday afternoon nap. I had one of those unusual and puzzling dreams that only surface when I sleep in the middle of the day... I dreamed that I had another child. A boy. In the dream, he was ten months old and beginning to walk. His birthday was March 25. He had blonde curls and blue eyes... I even knew his name.

I felt an odd sense of regret upon waking...and I can't explain that. I missed that child the rest of the day. Even now, I can see his tiny face when I close my eyes...

I began my work as a pediatric nurse today. This evening while leaving the hospital, I saw a tiny boy being pulled down the hall in a red wagon. I heard his laughter and watched as he threw his hands in the air and gave the nurses two thumbs up... I knew instantly that I had made a good decision. No regrets here.

It's odd, but everything evens out eventually. It has so far, at least. My dreams are more perplexing, unfortunately. I truly feel as if I know that child, that blue-eyed little boy... A child that is not yet born...or even conceived.