I’ve always been kind of a stickler for rules and obligations. To the point of being a pain in the ass. I even annoy myself with it, but can’t seem to let it go. There is one right way to do things, one order for getting things done. Just as I would never throw a game to let my children win, I would never say “great job,” if I didn’t mean it.
I cringe remembering times that I was presented with a well-meant offering, only to say, “well, that’s nice, but next time remember to butter the pan first…” only to see their little faces fall just a little. I shudder at the times I placed work or school or other obligations ahead of time with my children. They aren’t children anymore. Now, whatever I placed in front of them pales in comparison to the times I let pass by. Times that I can’t get back.
I have a lot to do. The writing for the upcoming issue of the Beacon has fallen largely to me, because everyone is busy this time of year. I’m busy, too, but it’s mine, so responsibility falls to me. I’m trying to work it in around all other obligations. I explained that, last evening, to my grandson, Tommy, who arrived day before yesterday. “I have to take this evening to write,” I told him.
He didn’t complain. Wanting to earn money while he’s here, he helped out for a couple hours at the hardware store yesterday, then worked at mowing my lawn for a half hour while I put dinner together. The desk was going to be my next stop. Until bedtime.
Then, I stopped. Stepped out of my rigid rule book about what needs to be done and when. Said, “Let’s make ice cream cones, load up the dogs and go to Donegal Bay for the sunset.”
And that’s exactly what we did.
I’ve let enough opportunities go by in my life; this was one that I captured.