I’ve spent a day thinking about my past–the joys, the regrets, the disappointments, and the everyday–and I’ve pondered which day I would relive if I could. As a result, I’ve re-experienced too many different emotions today, and I’m left sitting in a funk. Nonetheless, I continued on with this writing prompt.
My first instinct was to go back to my wedding day and experience a day of perfection one more time. I’ve never been happier than that day, holding the hand of Matt as my long white veil and train followed behind wherever we’d go. The smile didn’t leave my face from the moment I walked down the aisle, through our vows and countless pictures, to the night when we danced and celebrated and drove off together to never go home to different houses again. But in the end, I decided to hold on to that beautiful memory and pick another day. After all, the two leads in that perfect day are still co-starring in this story, and I’d rather focus on living more perfect days together than reliving one that had already passed.
So naturally, my mind wandered to a day I’d like to erase. I couldn’t actually remember the exact day, but I decided I should go back to when I said ‘yes’ to dating a certain boy. I don’t have many regrets, but I regret that entire overly-dramatic relationship for the time I wasted in it, and if I could do anything over in life, I would’ve said ‘no’ and taken back that time. However, even though thinking about that relationship left me depressed, I’m certain that I learned from my mistakes and now have an experience that will one day help me parent my daughters better.
My mind wandered over a few more events in my life, from gymnastics competitions to days when I blew it with my kids, but I ultimately decided on a day when I was three or four. On this particular day in nursery school, I was supposed to finger paint. Most children have no problem sliding their hands throughout the paint, making beautiful creations with their little fingers, but I would not participate. I didn’t want to get my hands dirty. The kind teachers got me popsicle sticks to rub around in the paint instead.
And while I know that God created me as a unique individual, I can’t help but wish that I were a little less afraid to get my hands dirty. How many times did I hold back from splashing in puddles or rolling around in the mud as a kid? And how many carefree moments did I miss out on as an adult?
Cleanliness and order an even inhibition have their places, but so does letting go. And if I could go back to when I was that timid little girl in nursery school, I would laugh and squeal as I squeezed those different colors of paint through my fingers and down my wrists.
I don’t want to change my life–every experience has made me the person that I am today–but I wish I lived some days more fully. Consequently, I’m getting my daughter finger paints for Christmas.
Linking up late to Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop.