new-ish. story.

They say there are always regrets. At the end of everyone's life, there will always be things you did that you wish you hadn't, places you wanted to go but never did, and things you just never got the chance to say. And, I don't know, really, but I would guess that a lot of last thoughts are of those regrets.
My life, though, has relatively few regrets. Today I am 73 years old, and there are only three things that were significant enough to remember in all my years. I guess you could say that for the most part, things were pretty mundane for me. I've lived in Baltimore for my entire life, and I have enjoyed it. I learned to walk, talk, read, kiss, and love here. After I married my husband and we had our own children, I watched them do the same. Some people might say that living in one neighborhood for your entire existence is worth regret, but not for me. I found the knowing to be the best part of my life. I know when things open, close, come and go. I know my neighbors (well, those who are still around, anyway), and I think there's a lot to be said for knowing your neighbors these days.
There are some things I remember, and a lot of things that I do not. It is also funny to me what your mind chooses to remember. For example, I remember the smell of the strawberries on my wedding cake, but find it hard to remember the color of the Bridesmaid's dresses. I remember the sound of my first daughter's cry, and the look in my husband's eyes when he held her for the first time. I remember the taste of my daughter's tears and I kissed them away after telling her that her Daddy would not be coming home. Some days, I feel like I just sit around, constantly flooded with memory triggers. From the steam wafting off of my morning coffee to a young couple walking hand in hand down the street. I guess that's what happens when you get older. You sit around remembering and trying not to forget. I know a lot of my friends in the neighborhood don't like to talk about the fact that we are old, and that our time is running out. I guess for me it's a little more practical than that. I've lived, and I will die. And so will everyone that you come into contact with. All that you can do before that time is try to pass along the lessons you've learned to anyone who will listen. Or any piece of paper that happens to be blank, as is the case right now.
Regrets. I have been remembering my regrets today. I saw two young girls playing on a corner earlier today, braiding each others' hair and singing songs about it. It reminded me of my childhood best friend, Sarah. We grew up together in Highlandtown. She lived three doors down from me, and was always getting me into trouble. I guess you could say she brought out my rebellious side. We would go down to the shipyard and try to throw rocks at the barges coming in (which was, by the way, impossible). One particular day, I had gotten it especially hard from my mother after she heard about Sarah and I spitting on some boys in the park, and I was not looking for any more trouble.
"Sorry, Sarah. My mom says we can't be friends."
Sarah did not respond, just hung her head and walked toward the water.
And that was the last time that I ever saw my best friend. The details are really vague in my memory, or maybe I just never knew them in the first place, but her body was found in a ditch three days later. I have always thought that if I could have been there, maybe she would have made it home that day. Maybe I could have helped her out of whatever crazy situation she had gotten herself into. That's what best friends are for, and I was not there. I don't think that I can ever get to the point to not regret that day. The other two things that I regret are not nearly as sad as this, and for that I am thankful.