Last night I had a dream in which I was playing hockey and reasonably well. The arena was like winter is in my dreams. It wasn’t cold. And the ice didn’t make scratching cutting noises like I remember that it did the last time I skated in an arena. It was warm and fluid. And unlike my memories, I wasn’t distracted or disturbed by having sharp shiny things on the bottom of my feet and I wasn’t rattled by the hardness and the coarseness of that black dense puck.

I couldn’t begin to guess why I was having hockey dreams. But it got me to thinking. First, wouldn’t it be funny if you had missed out on your best life because, at 11, you couldn’t quite get the hang of something? But I’m not terribly concerned about that. It was a mental game more than anything. It’s quite a little crazy to regret a life we didn’t choose to live.

For the most part I’m happy with my life and who I am and what I do and what I have done and what I might yet do. But the truth is I have a very bad habit. If I’m not nearly immediately good at something I don’t persevere. I do persevere at things I’m good at or things that I think I’m good at. And while I am mainly satisfied with all that I am and all that I do I am not precluded from thinking about the things I should like to do.

I should like to score the game-winning goal. A puck. A basketball. A football. It shouldn’t matter which. I don’t suppose that I ever have. And I’m quite certain I never will. Yes, of course, there is always the philosophy that it is never too late. It is never too late for the philosophy that it is never too late. But I know myself. And I suppose I might pass this life never scoring the game-winning goal and never being carried away in a boisterous mob of cheer.

I should like to learn to play an instrument. I never got music. I struggled to pretend to read it and never got the hang of it. I’ve always wanted to play the saxophone. It’s sexy. So in university for a performance art piece I rented a saxophone. I was terrible at it and I gave it up. The performance art piece still worked; it didn’t matter that I was terrible.

I want to learn how to dance the Salsa. I love to dance. But I dance from the waist up. And that’s all wrong for Salsa dancing. Who knows? I might still learn how to Salsa.

Why not?

SS