Did something terrible happen to you?
Or did you make it happen for you?
Because sometimes when I feel sad about the past, or what I’ve lost, have less of, or will never have again, I open this little box in the drawer of my kitchen. It’s stuffed with every little paper “I love you” note my girlfriend has ever left me. I read them and remind myself that there are people in the hospital right now, dying to have what I have. That I’m lucky beyond my stars to have my problems; my less of’s, losses, and nevers.
I remember that I’ve been that person in the hospital, dying to have what you have. During the multiple times I’ve been close to death, I didn’t want your health or the things that were going good for you. I wanted a chance.
I wanted the ability to do great things and fail, small things and fail, and sometimes, when the conditions and my game were right on, win. When I was in a wheelchair, I wanted to feel my leg hurt with each step I took. When I could walk but was told by doctors “no more sports”, I wanted to swing my canon of a leg and send a soccer ball at blistering speeds towards the goal and miss by a mile because I played defense and couldn’t score for shit.
And now, as I think on who I could have been, or looked like, or performed like and feel “loss, less, or never” enter my mind. I greet them and say “Oh, you’re here again. The exit’s behind you.”
Because the person we all could have been paled in comparison to the chance we have now to craft who we could become with lessons that “less, loss, and never” taught us. The whispers of “you’re here now because you didn’t measure up before” aren’t gone, but instead overwhelmed by the booming voice “You could be more than you are.”
And I believe it.
And I put the notes back in my box, feel my feelings about what I’ve lost, have less of, or will never have, and thank my stars that I have a chance right now to fail big, disappoint myself and try again, or beat Rick in a workout. Then, I leave the kitchen and try to be some source of light to others, myself, or the world.
If nothing else, I can just be that for my dogs. All I have to do is say “walk” and they’re ready to invade a county in my name if they have to.
