Time...

Time... Infinite, or so it seems. At least that’s what many people might believe. It’s how some people live their lives.

Tomorrow... Tomorrow, I’ll make that call. Tomorrow, I’ll take that drive. Tomorrow, I’ll right that wrong.

Tomorrow...

There’s always time, right? There will be another day, another opportunity. Another chance.

But, what if? What if there isn’t more time? What if there isn’t another chance, another opportunity? What if all you have is the here and now—only this day, this moment, this opportunity?

I’ve spent the majority of my life in 12-step recovery. The most recent anniversary I celebrated was ten consecutive years in the rooms of help and hope. Ten years of blessings, and opportunities. During that time there’s been innumerable lessons, self-inflicted heartache, the struggles that come along with life on life’s terms, peeling the layers of my soul—of my disease, and learning what makes me who I am, how I act, and why I think the way I do.

All of that work—and there’s still more to be done—enabled me to discover who I am at the core. From the top of my head, right down to the bottom of my feet.

My entire heart and soul.

I have a deep understanding and acceptance of the fact that I’m not perfect. I never will be. And frankly, I don’t want to be. Only madness lies on the path to perfection, and I’ve had more than my share of madness in my lifetime.

The last 5 years has carried it’s own brand of madness though. It marks the beginning of change in my life, of a madness that would impact my future—to a degree I hadn’t realized possible.

And through all of that, I’m exactly where I am supposed to be.

Everything happens for a reason. Let me state that again: Every single thing that has happened in my life has been for a reason.

I lost my father.

Two years ago, he was dead and alone in his small one room apartment for two days, but no one would discover that until tomorrow. 8/11/2012. For me, honoring and remembering him, lasts for three days. Three days of a deluge of memories. Three days of a desperate need to have him back. And three days of knowing he’s at peace and right where he should be.

Yet, I would give anything to have just one more Sunday evening phone call with him. To hear him tell me he loved me, or bitch about his life, or call me Puppy. To be sure he knows how much I loved him.

I would give anything to have a little more time. To have tomorrow...

But it’s too late for that now.

We don’t always have tomorrow. We don’t always have another chance, or another opportunity to make it right. Time is sometimes not on our side.

I’m not a fan of missed opportunities or regret.

I would much rather live, and take chances, and know that I got to have something crazy, and good, and complicated, and wonderful, intense, and hard... and then even if it fails, I would rather have the pain of losing, than the regret of giving up.

I would rather grab what life puts in my path, and if I deem it worthy, hold on to it with both hands and see where it takes me. I would much rather have today, even if I know that tomorrow, or ten thousand tomorrows later, it would be gone.

It’s worth it. The mistakes, the good and bad choices, the heartache we receive or cause, and the once in a lifetime passion we might find in one specific person. And the risk that comes along with it. All of it.

I would rather choose to live, than miss one intense moment of it.

Because I think it’s fucking worth it.