I don’t do regret. If I did, I’d probably be spending my days zonked out on Valium, and what would that achieve?
The tapestry of my life has some extremely messy patches, obviously worked by an inept, misguided and possibly colour-blind maniac. Yep, that’d be me. But since the option of unpicking and reworking isn’t available in the life-tapestry rule book, far better, I decided, to learn from the imperfections and do better in future. Particularly when the alternative is to complete the piece as a monochrome in grey except for the big fat albatross sitting in the middle.
Because that’s what regret is. Like guilt. An albatross. I’ve done albatrosses in the past – more messy patches in the tapestry – and realised I’d sink under the weight of them. Now that would do my kids a lot of good, wouldn’t it!
Oh, wait! I wouldn’t have the kids, would I, without the messy patches that preceded them. And the messy patches that came after have taught them a lot as well. Not that I’d wish it on them – that’s one albatross whose beady eyes still glint in the dark, if I let them – but the result of all that learning is damn good. Magnificent in fact.
What can I say?