R is for AUURRRRGGGHH. Just kidding.

It’s not for rain either, this ceaseless, ceaseless rain, along with this ceaseless, ceaseless winter that won’t quite turn into spring.

And it’s not for rant; obviously I took care of (most of) that with my “P” is for Pet Peeves post.

And it’s not for resorcin, the last item listed in the 1921 Collier’s New Encyclopedia volume referenced in my “Q” post. (If you’re wondering, resorcin is a “colorless, crystalline compound prepared on a large scale by the action of sulphuric acid on benzene, and by the treatment of the resulting compound with caustic soda. It yields a fine purple-red coloring matter and several other dyes used in dyeing and calico printing, is a powerful disinfectant and deodorizer, and is used as a medical drug.” Yeah, perfectly muddy.)

Over on my co-conspirator’s blog, the dear Chad Clark has kindly humored me by making his “R” monster an ROUS from The Princess Bride, one of my favorite movies (detailed in my “M” post). YAY and Thank You Chad!

Anywho, today I write about:

R is for Regrets

You know, pretty much everyone I know has regrets, even if they don’t talk about them much. Big ones, that dog our steps; small ones that just nag us on occasion. The huge ones – the “What-Ifs” – and the minor ones – maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that for dinner.

In my case, most of my regrets are for things I didn’t do. And most of those, I didn’t do out of fear. Of course, there are a few things I wish I hadn’t done, but for the most part, those things helped make me who I am today, and I’m pretty cool, if I say so myself.

Image credit: Alex Nordstrom/Wikimedia Commons. License: CC-by-sa.

My dream car, and it’s been my dream car since I was in high school and noticed cars, is a 1965 fire-engine-red Mustang convertible with white top. Nothing else will do. Not another color, not another top. I’d go for a 66 or a 64 1/2, but no later. (Interestingly, I care not what the interior looks like…) (And yes, it must be a real car, not a die-cast model.)

In 2002 or 2003, my father-in-law at the time found one for me to buy. In perfect condition. For the low, low price of $12,000. If you can find one now, like here, they’re selling for around $38,000.

But back then, I didn’t even look at it. I knew if I looked, I’d have to buy it, and I was afraid to spend the money, even tho technically I had it.

Now, that’s regret.

I also regret that I pushed my writing and artistic side away for way too long, even tho I, dSavannah, was clearly born to be a writer and an artist. I thought I needed a “career” since I’d gone to college and all. Plus, I was afraid of going hungry. I was afraid of what people would think of me, what they’d think of my creations. Writing this blog is a way of smooshing that fear down, and thankfully, except the part about going hungry, I am not as afraid of those other things as I once was.

In addition to those big regrets, I have some small ones: not buying the matching earrings for a necklace I love; losing a favorite shirt; giving away my “fat” pants.

And there are what I would call “medium” ones, like not going to the wedding of my high school best friend 20-something years ago, even tho she gave me just a couple days’ notice and I was afraid of losing my pitiful job and I didn’t have any money. Not sticking with singing. And there’s a third one, but every time I come to add it to this post, I manage to forget what it is.

I purchased a piece of artwork quite a while ago with this beautiful little poem on it, and I’m trying not to live in fear but to instead live by these words:

When I rise up
let me rise up joyful
like a bird.

When I fall
let me fall without regret
like a leaf.

~ Wendell Berry

And I hope you try to live by them too.