Misfortunes and minor victories

Wait for me?

When you’re old, you’re more than likely going to regret the things you didn’t do, than the things you did.

He said that. Maybe to justify himself, or to make me feel less guilty. Either way, the thing is, I’m not yet old enough to be glad about all these issues that are killing me now.

But I wonder, if I’m 60 years old, would I still remember all these things? The way I see how the sun rays go through the curtain. The way I giggle when I see cats. The way how chocolate oatmeal tastes. The way how random songs played from the computer make me dance or cry. The way how I jump every time I see a tumblr message. The way how I fall in love with the smell of books. The way I see society as a den of mixed idealisms and schemes. The way how raindrops irritates me. The way how worms kill me. The way he touches my bare skin. The way she pushes me down the ground. The way how I live now. The way how I take things now. The way I am.

Would I remember these small things I take as a big deal forty years from now?

I don’t know. I’m not sixty yet. Wait, and I shall blog about it when I turned sixty.

Wait for me?