Regrets and Missed Opportunities
Pair this one with Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) by Green Day and clean out that closet
I keep my regrets and missed opportunities in the guest room closet. Just the ones I have not been able to let go. Some of them are old and smelly. Some of them have congealed into grudges on the bottom. Some of them are more recent and still complaining. I am sure there are even some that I have forgotten about. Today is the day, though. It is time to set them free, clear the space, let in some air so I can feel lighter. They are not serving me anymore.
As I slide the closet door open I see them in there. Clinging on to hangers and each other for dear life. It is a good thing I am wearing rubber gloves because some of them look toxic. I would not want them to infect me.
I take them out one by one and dump them into a sturdy black contractor bag. There goes Not Studying Math Instead of Economics. I have had plenty of chances to go back and now I am happy doing other things. Goodbye.
Not Having Children Earlier jumps out at me with a growl. I should probably have worn an apron. These are messy creatures. I peel it off my shirt while I remind myself of how perfect the kids are and have been at any age, mine or theirs. Good riddance.
The next one is sneaky. It is The One Who Got Away. It worms its way into my pocket hoping there is still time. I have to break its heart by mentioning there used to be more of them. Now there are none because what was meant to be is. It cries for a bit but then lets itself fall into the trash. Bye, bye.
I start using both hands to get them in the bag; Not Asking for Raises, Waiting Too Long to Get a Tattoo, Thinking Wide Skirts Fit Me, Not Having Read Ulysses, Turning Down Seeing Prince Play in 2015, Never Throwing Parties on My Birthday. Out, out, out. The weights around my ankles melt away. I should do this more often. Or better yet, not store these buggers at all.
As I float out to the bins by the back door with the biohazards in hand I think about the ones that were not there. All the ones I did right. Marrying My Best Friend, Trusting My Creativity, Wearing Red, Going Gray, Speaking Up, Sitting Down, Dancing, Forgiving My Mother, Forgiving Myself. Forgiving.
Regitze Ladekarl has re-emerged as a raconteur after a long, successful career elsewhere. She crafts universal tales from everyday lives with an honest, sharp and witty pen. Besides working on a forthcoming novel, she flexes her voice with personal essays, flash fiction, and method writing here on Medium.
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