The other day Dad and I took a long walk where we reflected upon life and such. He spoke again of his dream of moving to a little cottage tucked away in an old fishing town with a yard and a dog. Where he could take long walks with his dog, hang out with other salt-of-the-earth folks and — most joyfully — go fishing.
All these things are deeply ingrained within; I saw it in his father as well. Grandpa lived in a quaint home by the sea that was within walking distance of his fishing spot. He’d consort with fellow souls and they’d share stories through the hours.
Like father, like son — and beyond unto generations of our past whose sweat and blood sang that song of old Florida.
I encouraged him to move forward on his dream; to rekindle that fire and make it happen. I reminded him he was getting close to knocking on the door of his twilight years.
Waiting for the right time or opportunity would be a sorrowful delusion because time itself is a most wily deceiver. It would fly by so fast he’d wonder where it all went and by then it would be too late.
I urged him to head off those final gates of regret, to tear down those moving goalposts and set a hard move-by-this-date deadline, using the example of when I terminated the lease on my cabin to force me out into the nomad life.
I know he heard me (and has for quite sometime), so will he finally make haste? Who knows. He can be a stubborn sort; I know this because I’ve inherited the same trait that’s sometimes maddening and yet endearing. He is a man of his own time.
Meanwhile, I’ll carry on whispering of his dreams on our ongoing walks as a subtle reminder.
I’ll dream for him too — the dream of seeing his soul sing to the tune of a life drifting into sunsets in his little boat with an ever faithful dog at his side, and of course, a fishing pole tugging in the breeze.
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.Mark Twain