Why Didn’t I?

Why didn’t I take my picnic blanket down to the ocean’s edge
and sip cold champagne that burst into bubbles in my stomach?

Why didn’t I go to that party I was invited to,
the one where everyone spoke of the decadent charcuterie for days?

Why didn’t I lie in the long grass
and make wishes upon the dandelions,
watching their tiny white parachutes
drift toward places I had never been?

Why didn’t I stay a little longer,
laugh a little louder,
say yes a little more often?

Why didn’t I dance barefoot in the kitchen
while supper simmered on the stove,
or pull the car over to watch the sunset
paint the sky in colours that would never exist again?

Why didn’t I call the people I missed
when I thought of them?
Why didn’t I write the letter,
take the photo,
buy the flowers,
or tell them what my heart already knew?

I spent so much time waiting.

Waiting for the right day,
the right mood,
the right version of myself.

As though joy were something that arrived
only after everything else was finished.

But life was never waiting for me.

It was there in the salt air,
the laughter spilling from open doorways,
the dandelion seeds,
the champagne bubbles,
the invitations tucked into ordinary days.

And now I understand.

The question was never why didn’t I.

The question is:
why wouldn’t I?

Why wouldn’t I spread the blanket,
raise the glass,
follow the music,
make the wish,
take the chance?

Because tomorrow has never promised me a thing,
but today has arrived,
holding out its hand.

And this time,
I think I’ll say yes.