Do you ever stop and think of what could have been? Playing the “what if” game sometimes?
My first pick would be when I chose my highschool, but if I were to try harder I bet I could go back even more…
Of course you don’t make history with “what if-s”, but just sometimes, maybe because I run into my old italian and latin teacher from highschool, or for countless other reasons, I start to wonder.
And whoever said “walk different paths” first couldn’t be more right, sometimes it does feel like being on one of those american highways, where at least eight lanes are over or undercrossing eachother, and you see the ones that are running parallel to you, or the ones above, or below, or far far away, and you think to yourself “I could have been there”.
And I’m not talking about those people you “loose tracks with” (again roads, and paths and tracks), because this is sometimes a natural thing, sometimes less natural (there is always someone who needs to control everything, o who needs a closure to feel fine, or simply doesn’t accept the fact that if you grew apart, is because both of you cared for your own walking without caring anymore for the other), here I’m talking about the roads I could have walked on my own, but didn’t.
Sometimes I regret that, some other it’s just a wondering.
For example, what if that day I didn’t send that email, or turned on Skype, maybe I’d still be in Montpellier and from there I’d become an unstoppable globetrotter.
Or what if that day I kept quiet, or gave another answer, maybe now I’d be a rampant business woman with clicking stilettos.
Or maybe I’d been ran over by a truck… but these are mainly thoughts I get when I’m crossing the street and there’s a jungle on the zebras… And you know what? Every single time my reaction is this one: The heck no! I like living, I like my life, I still have tons to do.
And that goes for everyone, yes, sadly sometimes I scare myself thinking about the world without some people in it.
Some other times, instead, I catch myself looking at a goateebeard (a random one… 😉 ) with some silver strays in it, and I fantasize on what it’ll look like when it will be all white, or if it will still be there. Or I look at the corner of our fireplace, where once I was standing with a frilly pink dress, where I snapped the first picture of our first christmas in here, or where our cat sheds furs and where there will be countless other memories.
And you know what? It’s precisely in these moments that all the “what ifs” go get lost, because after all, and everything and everyone, I’m good. I am really good