When I was a child, I expressed an interest in learning to play the piano. My parents gave in to my pleading and finally bought a piano. I started taking lessons when I was approximately seven years old and continued for about ten years. I wasn’t very good and I absolutely despised practicing. I kept taking the lessons in part because I did not want to disappoint my parents who had spent a lot of money on the piano (as they would often remind me). I was also too shy and too embarrassed to tell my piano teacher, who was a very nice man, that I no longer wanted to play – and that was a condition that my mother had dictated. I finally mustered up the courage to quit playing the piano during my senior year of high school. A few years later, my father died and my mother sold the house that we had lived in. Neither of us had room for the piano so she gave it away. I haven’t played the piano for years and I know that what little skill I had is very rusty. Ironically, however, I find myself missing the ability to sit down at a piano and play. That is when I get wistful about my piano playing days. At those times, however, I wonder whether I may resume tickling the ivories again when I retire.
I have reached a stage in my life where I find myself contemplating from time to time whether I have attained the goals that I set for myself. I have attained most of them. I received the education I desired in my chosen career. I have risen through the ranks to a position of prestige and respect. I have children whom I love dearly. In many ways I am quite fortunate. I try to remind myself of that when I find myself dwelling on the goals that I have not achieved. For example, the happy marriage that I once thought would be inevitable has proven to be elusive instead. The financial security that I once thought would come as the result of hard work and determination has proven to be elusive as well. So I will try to stay positive and focus on the goal achieved rather than the goals missed.
If I could relive the last five years of my life, there is not much that I would change. I probably would, however, be more financially conservative. I would save more money because I would realize that a severe recession was looming. I would sell the property that I inherited when my mother passed away and that I was unable to sell five years ago because I was too sentimental to put it on the market. I held onto the property through the whole period when real estate prices were skyrocketing in the area where I live. Now, the bottom has fallen out of the real estate market here and the boom economy has gone bust. My mother’s property is now worth only a fraction of what I could have sold it for five years ago, if I could even find a buyer for it now. I try not to think about this situation because it makes me want to kick myself. I merely try to remind myself that hindsight is always clearest.
If I knew that I had only two weeks to live, my major regrets would be about the times in my life when I let my fears overrule my desires. There were many times when I think that I was too cautious and too reserved. There were also times when I did not express my true feelings out of a fear that I would be rejected or that I would be ridiculed. Obviously, I cannot change the past now. Even if I could change the road that I have taken, there is no way of knowing whether the “road not taken” would have led to a better destination. Nevertheless, until I take my last breath, I will regret not having explored those roads more thoroughly when I was in the springtime of my life. I no longer have the option of exploring them and would be unable to do so in my last two weeks of life, even if I knew that death was imminent. So I would probably spend my last two weeks with the people I love in the life that I have created as I have traveled along the paths that I have chosen since the springtime of my life.