“I’m going to take the pontoon out tonight, and you’re invited to join me,” my parents’ neighbor Rod told them.
It was a nice night – not too warm, with very little wind. It was a perfect night for a pontoon ride around the lake.
My parents co-own a pontoon boat with their next-door neighbors, Char and Rod. Even with two families owning it, it doesn’t get a lot of use. If either couple has company, they might take the boat out for a spin, but most days, the boat sits idle. Rod has decided to change this.
“We own the boat, and we might as well use it,” he said. “I’m not getting any younger! You should use it, too!”
Rod went on to say that he was making an effort to do things he put off because he always thought he’d have time later. Rod is approaching 90 and has come to the realization that doing things now might be a good idea. “I’m going to try to take a pontoon ride every evening!” Rod declared.
We didn’t take a pontoon ride.
My mother was feeling a bit under the weather. We were planning to go to a restaurant that we feared might fill up if we got there too late. Rod nodded, but I could tell he thought we ought to get on that pontoon boat anyway.
“Another time,” he said. And I thought how often I assume there will be another time. The year is half over, and when I think of the things I want most to do, I find that I spend very little time actually doing those things.
I love to read, but I go for days without picking up a book. I love to write, but I will resist starting a new writing project until I have completely finished the previous thing. The new idea starts to fade and often disappears completely because I did not take the time to just write when the idea first hit me. I always assume there will be another time to get on the pontoon.
I remember the first time I became aware that a lack of enthusiasm was a poor reason not to do something.
I was a somewhat sulky teenager. I don’t think, on the sulkiness scale, I was over the top, but I was a teenager, after all. My dad wanted me to go to a talk given by a naturalist. I was not excited. In fact, I was pretty grumpy about it. But I went.
I had a wonderful time. And I remember – as clear as if it were yesterday – walking back into the house after the talk and realizing how wrong I had been. I still try to remember that feeling.
Tonight, I am invited to a picnic. I won’t know a single person there. It’s a gathering of writers I have never met. It’s being held in a park I’ve never been to, so I’m not sure how to get there. It’s scheduled for when I usually take my walk. In other words, I have a lot of not-very-good reasons not to go.
And I’m going.
Because I think Rod is right. I am never going to regret the rides I take. While I don’t need to fill every waking moment with activity, trying something new is how I can make this day memorable, different from the day that came before and after.
The pontoon boat is there, waiting for me, and another time to take this ride simply may not come. It’s time for a ride.
Till next time,
Carrie
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