Decisions

A friend continually reminds me that, as we get older, the margin for error decreases. Consequences for wrong or poor decisions seem to come at a higher cost. Living back with my parents illuminates this with the everyday, "small" decisions.

An unnecessary comment. Stuff left out. Dishes not washed. Every decision I make in this house affects everyone else living here. People notice my shoe pile growing in front of my bedroom door and aren't happy when they trip over my purse or knock over my mail. Ipod plugged into my Mom's computer. Letters waiting to be mailed on the dining room table. All these things are so minute and yet all so intricately entwined with the lives of others.

At the same time, all of my other decisions equally, if not more, affect those I've allowed into my life. How I spend my time with or without people, what I do or don't do, everything says something. So what am I saying? What have I failed to say? If every moment has a purpose, every now says something, then what am I saying now?

I fear, too often, "me" and "I" get in the way of what it is I really want to say. Of what I'm trying to say. Of what I've been saying all along:

I love you.

What are you saying now? Look at the people around you. The daily intersecting of lives? Before we know it, too many nows have passed and that voice, which we all have, forgets what life is all about.

May your decisions NOW speak something worth saying.

Something worth hearing.