Not Enough Lifetimes

As my favorite month comes to a close, I have the usual feeling of dread. October has it all. Beauty, weather, music, pumpkin. My birthday has now come and gone. The rein of the indulgent Libra is ending. I'm not ready.

I found myself in a cab the other night, wickedly cursing 2am as if it had just kicked my dog. I didn't want it to end.

Years ago, when my Grandpa was sick, I laid my head on him and he touched my hair. My plane was leaving that afternoon. We both knew I wouldn't see him again. I wanted more time.

My Mom kept pointing out babies in headphones at the legendary Austin City Limits Music Festival. "You'd have such a cool kid," she kept saying. And I would, undoubtedly. "Don't miss out," she warned. Roger that. But that means I wouldn't get to be what I am now. I wouldn't get to do what I do now.

I could have been a dancer or a lawyer or a fashion designer. I could live in Spain. Spain sounds lovely. But, then I wouldn't be here, now.

I have come to the conclusion that there are just not enough lifetimes in this lifetime. There are so many things to do, so much beauty and fun. There are so many people. Listing the things I've done seems impressive at times, but lately it seems to just scratch the surface. Is this what getting older feels like?

If there could just be a few more, a little longer, another at least. Then I could get it all done.