One day….

While cleaning and washing dirty clothes, my mind drifted off in remembrance of a friend. We always got along. He and his wife seemed to have it all, love, happiness, and big aspirations.  She wanted to be a doctor, and he was an electrician. Together, they made enough money to be able to do what they wanted, but her heart was set on being a doctor. My friend told his wife to quit her job and start working on getting into medical school. She did. Finally, her hard work was rewarded with a scholarship to Northwestern.

The years went by fast and she got her license to practice medicine. My friend paid her entire academic adventure off and to show her gratitude she bought him a new truck and boat. He also was given a year off from work (she paid the bills etc.) to enjoy his new toys. December 25th came around and as a gift she gave him divorce papers and left. Her desire to one day have it all did not include him.

One day….

While cruising the internet I came upon a meme that said: Someday is a disease that will take your dreams to the grave with you. There is no one to give credit for writing or saying this, so thank you Facebook for the words of wisdom. The truth of this simple statement is profound. All my life I have heard people say procrastinating dribble such as: “One day I will find true love!” or “Someday I will take that trip I have always wanted to go on!”

Yeah, someday you will be on your death bed wishing that you had made time to live a little. It never ceases to amaze me that you rarely hear anyone on their death bed say that they had a good life that was filled with adventure and memories. Generally, it is the time that the wool has been removed from your eyes and you can see just how futile the extra time at work netted you. All the missed opportunities to spend time with your kids in search of the almighty dollar haunts you. Often, it is a time of regrets and sorrow.

One day….

I do understand that it takes money to live but at what cost. The irony of the previous statement is not lost on me. Living does not need to be expensive. Sometimes, living is sleeping in on a Saturday, going to garage sales, calling in sick at the job that demands your every breath, or walking through the woods. There is time enough to kill yourself at work.

No explanation is needed, unless you were born into a wealthy family, you must burn the candle at both ends to make the proverbial ends meet. I get it. However, can you truly say that you are living when you are slaving at your job? Are you fulfilled and happy busting your butt to improve the lifestyle of the CEO of whatever career you chose? Think about it.

Freeman out.

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