If I could go back…I’d be born again—to the same mother who fell in love, with a curly haired guy who could dance, somewhere in Italy in the middle of World War II.
If I could go back…I’d let my mother know it wasn’t necessary to grieve the four babes she miscarried between my birth and the birth of my sister. It was my sister each time, trying it out and deciding she wasn’t ready to be here again. Maybe because she had past life issues.
If I could go back…I’d pay more attention to my little brothers instead of being so wrapped up in teen angst and drama. Maybe more time with them would have prepared me for a son. Then again, maybe not. He came in thinking he was the parent and I was the child — and he told me about our previous lives as gypsies when he could barely talk.
If I could go back…I’d love all over again everyone I’ve loved. I’d not change the wild and crazy and fabulous sexual life I led briefly because the future-non-sexual-alien-me used this life to exhibit videos at Galactic Center of what physical sex was like in the 1980’s on Earth.
If I could go back…I’d not really change anything because I’ve grown from both ups and downs. When I first began writing it was from angst, and now it comes from wisdom and joy as well as angst and everything in between. I’m grateful I’ve had this moment, this blink. To quote my mother (in my dream a month after her death)...
“This life is just a blink in the universe of time. Enjoy Every Moment.”