Twittering Tales — Regrets

73C1AA66-DF05-46B7-A6FA-CF53020FD8D7I’ve lived a long life, a good life, a happy life, and as I look back on the life I lived, I have few regrets.

No regrets about the deeds that I’ve done or the things that I’ve said.

But I do have regrets about the things I never got around to saying to you.

And now it’s too late.

(278 characters)

Written for this week’s Twittering Tales prompt from Kat Myrman. Photo credit: Marc Schäfer at

Share Your World — Well, Sort Of

This week Melanie, at Sparks From a Combustible Mind, has a special Valentine’s Day edition of Share Your World. She’s calling it “Share Your Heartfelt World,” and, as she said, “This week, instead of gratitude/thankful for question(s), I’m asking romantic, squishy booby hug, possibly sappy and overly sugary QUESTIONS about love.”

Truth be told, I’m not really the romantic, squishy booby hug, sappy, and overly sugary type. I’m more of a practical, pragmatic kind of a guy. Hence, I’m going to opt out of her “heartfelt” questions and stick with her “matter of fact” ones. But if you’re interested in seeing her sappy, Valentine’s Day questions, click HERE.

So with that said….

What’s your favorite way to spend a weekend?

As a retiree, my weekends last seven days. That said, our two grown kids are not retired and both work during the week. So weekends are the opportunity we have to spend some time with them, whether it’s heading to their respective neighborhoods or them coming to visit us.

Who do you admire most in the world?

Hmm. These days I don’t find too many truly admirable people. That said, I think that as a class of people, I’d have to focus on teachers. They are overworked and underpaid and are expected to shape the minds of our most precious possessions, our children. They should be much more admired — and valued — than they are.

 What do you regret not doing?

Not winning the Powerball or Mega Millions lottery.026DE52E-7C07-4F0E-8ED9-46794C3A2D68

If you see a puddle on the ground, do you walk around it or over/in it?

It depends upon what kind of footwear, if any, I have on. If I’m barefoot or wearing rain boots, I’ll definitely step in. Otherwise, I’ll step over or around it.

No Regrets

054718A4-C9EA-4C98-A724-18B8FD03DEEDI didn’t watch Donald Trump’s interview on “60 Minutes” last night because, quite frankly, watching Donald Trump nauseates me. But I did read the full transcript of the interview, which, if you’re interested, you can read here.

One of the questions Lesley Stahl asked Trump about was whether or not he had any regrets. She asked, “So you’ve been president for almost two years. Is there anything that you wish you hadn’t said, anything you wish you hadn’t done? Do you have any regrets?”

Who among us doesn’t have some regrets over things we might have said or done over the past two years? But not Donald Trump. Here’s how he answered her question:

“So when I won the presidency, I th– I– I– the press treats me terribly. I thought very strongly that, you know, the one great thing will happen is the press will start treating me great. Lesley, they treat me worse. They got worse instead of better. Very dishonest.”

Stahl then said, “Okay, this– you’re– but you regret?

To which Trump said, “ “I regret that the press treats me so badly. And despite that, my poll numbers are very good, so….”

Stahl then said, “Have you made any mistakes? That’s my question.”

“Everybody makes mistakes.” Trump said. Yet somehow he was unable to fess up to any regrets about anything he has said or done or any mistakes he made.

Sunday Photo Fiction — Regrets

img_1592Another Father’s Day sitting alone on a bench in the park wondering how I could have done things differently.

Perhaps if I hadn’t been so selfish, so callous, so narcissistic, my children would be here with me today. But you can’t change the past, can you? What’s done is done and it cannot be undone. If I could, I would undo it all.

She warned me when she found about my first indiscretion. She said she would forgive me, but she wasn’t sure that, if the children ever found out, they could forgive me.

I told her that I was sorry, that it was a mistake that happened in a moment of weakness, and that it would never happened again.

But it did happen again. And again. And again.

There was no forgiveness left in her. The kids found out, too, and they showed no willingness to forgive, either. She took the kids and they all left me.

And so here I sit, alone on a park bench on Father’s Day, a picture of loneliness. I’ve lost my wife. I’ve lost my kids. All I have left are my regrets. And the hungry ducks to keep me company.

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Written for today’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt from Susan. Picture credit: Susan Spaulding.