In October of 2014, I wrote the title to this piece and saved it as a draft, forgetting about it until I discovered it recently — more than four years later. 

It seems a serendipitous discovery, as I am currently making a bold move and finally facing my fear. Instead of "playing it safe," I've opted to take a buyout from my longtime employer and take myself out into the big beautiful world and find a new job. 

For years I've lived with the fear of being laid off, and when faced with the decision recently of whether to stay or go, I was frozen with fear. I came to the freeing conclusion that living a life ruled by fear is no way to live. To be sure, there have been moments during this process when I have felt more fearful than fearless. But having taken my future into my own hands, I now feel strangely empowered. 

While searching for answers and inspiration recently, I saw a quote that resonated with me:

I wrote this some time ago as a guest post for another blog, and it was subsequently picked up by a second blog. Both sites have since fallen into the wasteland of the interwebz, so I am resurrecting it here.
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As I look at your face in a faded photograph, I can see past your pretty smile for the camera and into the thoughts that fill your young and troubled mind. I’m not good enough. I’m not pretty enough. I’m not smart enough.

But you are. All of those things and more.  

At the tender age of 20, you don’t realize it now, but you will go on to far exceed your current expectations. You will succeed. You will excel. You will be more than good enough.

I know that you regret dropping out of high school, and I know that you feel like a failure. But the best you can do with your mistakes is learn from them. So, pick up that GED study guide and use it. When you feel ready, enter that testing room with pride, confidence and a measured amount of fear. Dreams can come true. Believe in yourself.

As I turn the pages of the photo album, I see you surrounded by your co-workers at the clock factory. You look happy — and you take great pride in your work — but you long for something more. I know that you create characters and plot a short story to write while you sit doing piecework. I know every word of that story — and I know how it ends when you finally write it for a creative writing class in college. That dream will come true. Believe it.

There's an elderly man in my neighborhood. We have a strange relationship. He walks his dog every morning, and I generally drive past during his morning constitutional. He smiles and waves. I smile and wave.

We have never spoken.

I've never taken the time to stop; I'm always in a rush to get to work. But seeing the old man always makes me smile. My husband, however, has taken the time. That's how I learned that before too long, I may no longer see my "friend" on his morning walks.

You see, my husband has stopped to chat with our neighbor. My significant other knows some significant facts about our friend: where he lives, his first name, and ... that he was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer.

I didn't see the old man this morning. Some mornings I don't, depending on our respective timing. But now, whenever I don't see him, I wonder ... will I ever see him again? Is he too sick to come out? Has the cancer taken him? Why have I never taken the time to stop and say hello? Why have I never made the effort to tell him that seeing him wave at me most mornings brings a smile to my face?

I hope to see the old man again. And when I do, I hope I'm not in a hurry. Because while I may think I don't have time to stop, his time may be running out. And, I guess, so is mine.


UPDATE 04/23/2015: I saw my "friend" this morning! I immediately stopped, rolled down the car window and wished him "good morning." I let him know that I'd missed seeing him on his walks; he replied that he'd been receiving chemo treatment but was trying to get out and walk some — it made him feel a bit better, he said. I acknowledged that I knew of his illness and had wondered how he was doing. He smiled and thanked me for asking. Shortly, I drove on with a wave and a smile, hopeful of seeing him again. And thankful that today, at least, I wasn't in too much of a hurry.

Memories are a wonderful thing. In an instant you can conjure up a scene from the past and recall the sights, smells and sounds of a bygone time.

The other day something led me (in my mind) back to the woods where I played as a child. In the woods behind our house, my cousins and I climbed trees, waded creeks and daydreamed. 

When I think of those summer days in the woods, I can see the green trees and feel the rising humidity. The scent of honeysuckle is heavy in the thick summer air. There's the smell of freshly mown lawns and newly cut hay. The sound of a transistor radio. The smell of suntan lotion. The taste of an icy-cold Coca Cola — left in the freezer just long enough to make it a little slushy (precursor to the Icee?).

I recall riding out a thunderstorm in the barn loft. Talking about boys we liked (and girls we didn't). Dreaming of … what? I'm not sure. To be famous, perhaps? To meet and marry the heartthrob of the moment? I realize now that I had no plan back then. I didn't really have a vision of what my future might look like — what sort of job I would have or where I live. That didn't come until much later. I suppose the seeds of writing were there even then (as noted in my post on the typewriter). Perhaps I was simply a dreamer. Content to take life as it came and just see what happened. 

And perhaps that's the key. To take life as it comes and see what happens. That doesn't mean you don't plan or set goals. It just means that, like that young girl, we are willing to wait and see what life holds in store ... and not feel the need to control it.

Here's to hot summer days, hanging out in barn lofts — whether literal or metaphorical — and taking life as it comes. 

What are you trying to control? Are you able to relax and accept life as it unfolds? Please share your thoughts in the comments.