All the time in the world

I had no intention of going out Saturday night. In fact, I had every intention of staying in and writing. I hadn’t been able to write since leaving home Thursday afternoon and I was longing for it. I was needing to write but as my lazy Saturday afternoon wore on into a lazy Saturday evening and the sun vanished from the sky, the fact that Saturday night had arrived was inescapable, as was the fact that I was not yet home. I had delayed my bike ride home as long as I could but the time had come where I could delay no more. In the end, no writing would get done.

But what if it had; what if I had spent Saturday night at home writing? What would I have written about? What stories could I have told? Much had happened over the past few days. Many adventures had come and gone. Many connections were made, revelations,  inspirations, declarations and many questions. As that time has now past, I am left to wonder what could have happened.

I could have written of seeing my parents after nearly three months and how I learned to accept their offerings as gifts without expectation or demand but as tokens of who they are and what they have to give.

I could write of a man I met at the Depot who traveled half way around the world to find the money needed to care for his family. It would be a wonderful story of honor, responsibility and sacrifice.

I could write of seeing Mark Mallman and Gospel Gossip perform Thursday night. I could tell a story of Minneapolis music fans who give their love so quickly only to let if fade a year later as their gaze shifts to the latest, greatest thing. Oh, I could write a lot about that.

I could tell of my dream to become a pedicab driver and the journey of personal growth which led me down this path. I would write of my hopes for where this journey will lead me.

I could write of chaos in the medicaid system. I would write about how my medical coverage got deactivated because I didn’t pay my premium because I didn’t get a bill because my medical coverage got deactivated.

I could write of the benefits to treating social service workers with kindness and respect. I could write of the great things that can be accomplished when people work together for a common goal.

I could write a story of Native American pride and my admiration for the ability to avoid violence.

I could tell you about the blast I had at the first Mix Up! dance event at the Blue Nile. I could expound on the power of dance and about meeting new friends and potential lovers.

I could tell of a friendship thirty years in the making, of destiny and fate. It would be a story of self acceptance and embracing diversity to find our higher purpose.

I could write about all these things and perhaps one day I will. For now, all I can do is acknowledge that they are out there. They are moments which have past, yet still live on within me and within those who shared them with me. Some may fade away and eventually be forgotten and some will continue to evolve as time goes on.

I will never regret a missed opportunity, only my failure to seize the opportunity which stands before me right now. Each moment has been meticulously designed, just for me, by each moment which has come before. To reject this moment in the belief that there is something better, somewhere else, is to reject the unique opportunity which has been presented only to me, which only I can fulfill.

Opportunities are never ending. As for running out of time, I have no fear of that. In all my days on this planet the universe has not failed me once in providing more time. Perhaps, one day, I will be proven wrong but until that happens I will continue to believe that I have all the time in the world.