I’ve always been more than a little confused by people who adamantly refuse to admit regret. I’m sure everyone has heard something to this effect at least once or twice before, I know I have. In fact, a close friend of mine, visiting from California, remains convinced (following a lengthy discussion) that living such a life, without regret, is not only possible but exactly how he lives from day to day. Then again, as a cancer survivor, maybe he’s right. For me, however, let’s just say I’ve just never been able to do so.

No, I’ll be the first to admit that I do have my regrets, gathered over a lifetime of mistakes and due, at times, to circumstances beyond my control. These regrets vary widely in scope, from the smallest imaginable all the way up to those life-changing decisions which crop up from time to time. Sometimes it’s something as small as wishing I’d never sold that guitar, or never told that little white lie, which never truly hurt anyone but still rankles when recalled. Other times, well, I’m not going to go into details, but I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve, sadly, said and done things I wish I could take back in hindsight. I suppose I’ve always felt that life just naturally works that way.