What If the Last 45 Years Were Just a Dream? - Would I Do It Differently?

I had this weird thought…

What if I woke up tomorrow and the last 45 years had just been a dream?

I’m young again.

No husband. No kids. No grandkids. No career. No house. No cell phone with my entire life inside it.

My parents are alive.

And apparently I have to live the 80s all over again—which, honestly, there are worse punishments.

But would I remember the dream?

Would I recognize Dennis when I met him and think, There you are?

Would I hold my babies a little longer because I already knew how fast they were going to grow up?

Would I know which friendships would disappear—and make more of an effort to keep certain people in my life?

Would I know when I was seeing someone for the last time and hug them a little tighter?

Would I recognize the people who would eventually hurt me and avoid them—or would I realize they were somehow part of who I became?

Would I know which arguments never really mattered and just shut my mouth? That’s a trick question—you know I can’t keep my mouth shut\! And would I know which ones did matter and finally say the things I should have said?

Would I do better in school and take it more seriously? Maybe go to college? Choose something different? Do something with all that potential I didn’t even realize I had yet? Would I take that summer trip to Holland instead of staying home because I didn’t want to miss my friends?

Would I walk the halls of my childhood home a little slower and take it all in, knowing there would come a day when it wasn’t my home anymore?

Would I sit on my swing set a little longer, looking at the mountains and watching the sunset, knowing someday I’d give anything to sit there just one more time?

And then there would be my parents.

God, what would it feel like to wake up and have them both there again?

Would I just stand there and stare at them for a while, knowing I had somehow been given back something I thought I had lost forever?

I think I’d notice everything this time. Their voices coming from another room as they talked to each other. My daddy telling some funny joke while rubbing his hand over his face. My mom completely ignoring him when he started a sentence with, “Now, Judy…”

Would I sit beside them a little longer? Ask them the things I never thought to ask?

And every time I hugged them, I’d know something my younger self couldn’t possibly have known yet: **there are only so many Christmases, birthdays, phone calls, and times you get to walk through the door and say, **Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.

Maybe I’d just love them slower this time.

Would I appreciate my young body instead of constantly finding something wrong with it?

We always say, “If I knew then what I know now…”

But what if you actually did?

I think I know my answer.

I would change things.

I’d change whatever I could to better myself. I’d make smarter decisions. Take a few different roads. Hold on to some people longer and let go of others a hell of a lot sooner.

I wouldn’t want to repeat every mistake just because it was part of my story.

But there is one thing I wouldn’t risk changing.

My kids.

Whatever roads I had to take to get to them, I’d take them again. They’re the one part of the dream I’d have to find my way back to.

Maybe that’s the part that makes this imaginary do-over so complicated.

If the last 45 years really were a dream, I wouldn’t want to wake up and live an entirely different life. I’d want to take what I learned from this one and do some things better.

I’d change what I could without changing the people I couldn’t imagine my life without.

And maybe I’d spend a little less time trying to get somewhere and a little more time realizing when I was already somewhere worth remembering.

So if I woke up tomorrow and I was young again, with 45 years of memories from a life that supposedly never happened…I make the most of it!

Being Offended Doesn’t Make You Right

Somewhere along the way, we decided that if something hurts our feelings, the other person must have done something wrong.

Nope.

Sometimes somebody was rude.

Sometimes somebody really does owe you an apology.

And sometimes?

You just didn’t like what they said. 😂

Being offended doesn’t automatically make you the victim. Disagreeing with you isn’t disrespecting you. And somebody telling you something you don’t want to hear isn’t necessarily “toxic.”

Sometimes the truth just has terrible bedside manner.

You can be offended and they can still be right.

Those two things can exist at the same time.

Your feelings deserve consideration. They don’t automatically win the argument.

Somebody needed to say it.

Who’s The Glue of Your Family

There is usually one woman in every family who becomes the glue. The one who thinks about everybody, keeps track of birthdays, plans the holidays, comes up with things for everyone to do and tries to keep the family connected. She plans it, shops for it, spends the money, decorates, organizes, takes the pictures and tries to make sure everyone—especially the kids—is having fun. Most of the time, everyone else just gets to show up.

Being the glue can be exhausting, and it can also be incredibly unappreciated. The woman trying to keep everyone together is often called bossy. She expects too much. She tries too hard. She makes too big a deal out of things. She takes too many pictures. There can be an eye roll or negative comment for almost everything she does. But what looks like “trying too hard” to everyone else may simply be someone who loves her family enough to put effort into making memories.

And here’s an idea: instead of having an opinion about everything after it’s already planned and done, offer to help while it’s still in the planning stages. Help come up with the idea. Make a reservation. Bring something. Decorate. Pay for part of it. Ask, “What can I do?” It’s pretty easy to point out what could have been done differently when someone else did all the work. If you want a voice in how things are done,don’t wait until the day everything’s done.

The funny thing is, family memories don’t magically happen. Somebody thought of the Christmas tradition. Somebody planned the family outing. Somebody bought the decorations and stayed up late putting them out. Somebody convinced everyone to play the silly game. Somebody got all the kids together and made them stand still long enough for that picture everyone will treasure twenty years from now. And yes, everybody probably complained while she was taking it.

Maybe families should be a little easier on their glue. Instead of teasing her for taking another picture, smile for the damn picture. Instead of complaining about the activity, participate. Instead of telling her she tries too hard, recognize how much effort it takes to keep a family connected as everyone gets older, busier and pulled in different directions.

Because eventually the kids grow up, holidays change, people move away and some of the people in those annoying pictures aren’t here anymore. Suddenly those silly traditions and hundreds of pictures don’t seem quite so ridiculous.

The glue isn’t trying to control the family. She’s trying to hold onto it.

And every once in a while, somebody should probably thank her for that.

Apparently, I Am a Walker Now

Three weeks ago, I started walking every morning. I’m not exactly sure what possessed me to do this, but I have discovered something completely unexpected—I actually enjoy it.

I started out with a quarter of a mile, because apparently I had no intention of overachieving. But it didn’t take long before I worked my way up to two miles a day. It takes me about 40 minutes, and by the time I get home, I need a shower!

There are quite a few people in my neighborhood who walk, especially on the weekends, so I’ve started getting to know the regulars. Well… “getting to know” may be a little generous. I know them in the way you know people you pass every morning but have never actually introduced yourself to.

I have the Hawaiian man who rides his bike while he sings. I don’t know what he is singing, but he seems very happy about it, and honestly, I respect that.

I have also made friends with several dogs, a few cats and even a rabbit. Although, I’m pretty sure the rabbit wasn’t interested in friendship. He hopped in a deep bush and turned to look at me. So I guess that friendship is still pending.

There are two older couples who walk together, and then there’s a Vietnamese couple. She walks ahead of him and he spends most of the time playing catch-up. And I’m not saying he walks slow, but she doesn’t exactly walk fast. I’m beginning to think their morning walk is less of a stroll and more of a relationship exercise.

There’s also a woman who works out in her garage while her baby sits in a bouncer watching her. I admire that woman. She has figured out how to exercise while parenting, and that deserves some kind of award. Or at least a really good cup of coffee.

Then there is the man who runs through both neighborhoods. He wears all black and checks his watch constantly. I have no idea what he is timing, but I know where he lives and sometimes he runs past his house then abruptly turns around and calls it a day. Like Forrest did that one time. 

There’s another lady who walks her dog, and they are both very serious about it. They walk perfectly straight, and that dog never looks my way. Not once. And let me tell you, that is one tight leash. That dog knows he has a job to do, and apparently his job is to ignore me.

We also have roofers all over the neighborhood. So now I have accidentally added “neighborhood nail patrol” to my morning routine. Anytime I see a nail in the street or yard, I pick it up. I’m not sure when I became responsible for neighborhood construction debris, but here we are. The nails change location depending on which house is being roofed.

There is also one particular sidewalk that I’m convinced is where all the worms in Oklahoma go to live. It is always covered with worms. I don’t know why they all gather there, but apparently they have a meeting every morning. I just try not to step on anybody.

And then there is a sidewalk that looks like they poured the concrete right in the middle of a downpour. It is covered in little dents and divots, like the world’s worst case of cellulite. I’m pretty sure that sidewalk is self-conscious.

Also, there is an etiquette to walking that I never knew existed. If I see someone coming, I give up the curb. But if they see me coming, they do the same thing. So then we have this awkward little sidewalk dance where two people are trying to be polite while silently deciding who gets the good side.

The main thing I’ve learned is that I really like walking before it gets too hot. Very important when you live in Oklahoma and would prefer not to suffer heat stroke before breakfast. So far, I’ve managed to get my walk in every morning, even in the middle of moving. And honestly, I’m pretty proud of myself.

I also take solace in having other people out walking when I am. Somehow, seeing strangers along my route makes me feel safer. I guess there’s comfort in knowing I’m not the only person out there. Of course, I also carry my pepper spray and have an alarm, just in case somebody decides my morning walk needs an unexpected plot twist.

At this point, I have my route, I know where the worms live, I know which dogs will acknowledge me and which ones apparently have no interest in socializing, and I know who is going to be out walking.

I’m sure the neighborhood walkers have noticed me by now too. I wonder what they call me. Probably something like, “There’s that sweaty lady again.” And honestly, I’m okay with that.

I Might Have Missed My Calling

Oh Lord… we’re moving! And I don’t mean moving and grooving moving. I mean 'pack up my house, buy 60 boxes, lose the tape 40 times in an hour, have the marker dry out, and discover that Dennis has apparently decided the entire attic needs to come downstairs' moving!

We decided to get out from under the pool. Sure, the grandkids love it, but Dennis and I rarely get in it, and Dennis is over taking care of it. So we started talking about it and thought, why are we paying to take care of something that we hardly use?

So we decided to put the house on the market. Now, we have sold three other houses, so we know how this works. I personally sold one of them very quickly because I had a friend who wanted it, but the other two took over a year! Knowing it is a buyer’s market, we figured this one would probably take some time, too. We definitely didn’t want to end up paying two mortgages, so we thought we would put it on the market and start building our new house and see what happened.

Well, I designed this house with a private architect, so it is a little different. It is a custom-built house, and we built it for what WE wanted. We have a library, a craft/writing hut, and we only put two bedrooms in it so our grown kids didn’t get any ideas. We have a beautiful outdoor living area with a large pool and a huge backyard on a corner lot. Every tree is lit, and there are gardens around the pool. It is a beautiful house, but we knew we were probably looking for a very specific buyer. I figured it might take MONTHS to find somebody who wanted exactly what we had built. I wanted to get that head start on selling while we began building our new house.

Anyway, we decided to go ahead and put it on the market, so our realtor got all the information from us, had professional pictures taken and got it posted online. And then the phone rang. Within minutes, we had a call for a first showing. Well… okay then.

Our realtor came over at 11:00 to show the house for the first time and put a big ol’ “FOR SALE” sign in our yard. We had another showing scheduled for 6:30 that evening. Dennis was already griping about having to leave the house for showings. LOL. Then someone else was getting ready to make an offer on another house and wanted to squeeze ours in at 6:00.

So the 6:00 people came and looked at the house and apparently loved that it wasn't like any other houses they had seen. While the 6:30 people were STILL HERE looking at the house and thinking about making an offer, the 6:00 people made an offer.

I’m sorry… WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? We don't have a house to move to yet! We went from “Let’s put the house on the market so we have more time to sell it” to “Holy crap, we sold the house!” in SIX HOURS!! That poor “FOR SALE” sign didn’t even have time to get comfortable in my yard before it went “Pending” on the website.

We thought this might take months. We were prepared for showings. We were prepared to keep the house clean. We were prepared for the possibility that it might take over a year. What we were NOT prepared for was that it would sell within the first 6 hours and that we would have 7 weeks to move.

So here I sit, taking a break from packing and wondering if I missed my calling in designing houses!