Hello, one.
Hello, other.
One, I’d like to tell you a story.
O joy! I love stories.
You might not love this one.
Hmm. Okay. Well, tell away, other.
A few days ago I was out driving…
Wait! cried the one. You don’t know how to drive, other.
That’s not important.
The one looked doubtful.
Look, I’m telling this story, one. And in the story I was driving. See?
O. Yes, I see, other.
So I was out driving. There I am in this big hunk of metal moving at 70 miles per hour. It was absurd.
O! We like the absurd, other!
Usually, yes…yes, we do, one. But this was not funny absurd. It was scary absurd. I mean, at any moment another hunk of metal could have veered into my hunk of metal and then I might have died.
O, yes, you are right, other, that is scary absurd. I would not have liked for you to die.
And the signs, the electronic signs kept shrieking at me.
What were they saying, other?
Always the same phrase, one: Nothing Super About Jail Drive Sober.
O. That is strange, other.
Anyway, after the signs stopped shrieking at me the sun began bleeding orange and yellow streaks all across the sky amid big puffs of blue and grey. It was so beautiful, one. It almost made me forget I was inside a big hunk of metal. And then, and then I saw something even more wondrous.
What was it! cried the one.
It was an enormous flock of geese, one. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, off to the side of the road in a big field. Some were the all white ones–
O! You mean Snow Geese, other!
Yes, and some were the other kind. The brown and black dingy looking ones that are everywhere now.
Canada Geese! sang the one.
Yes, yes! cried the other, excited now. And they were all swirling around, making their calls. And some were on the ground, poking around in the fields. It was quite a spectacle, one.
I bet it was, other, I bet it was.
Except now I am sad.
O no! Why are you sad, other?
Well, I didn’t stop my hunk of metal to take in the whole scene. I could have turned around and pulled over and gazed upon this sight for the precise number of minutes necessary to fully absorb a wonder of nature such as this, one. Also there may have been some unusual or rare geese in the flock, but I didn’t take the time to look for them.
O. Hmm. Yes, I can see how that might make you feel sad, other.
It’s a strange sort of sadness, one. Do you know it?
Yes, I do, other. I believe they call this special type of sadness regret.
I do not like this regret feeling, one. How do I stop it? Can I maybe stuff something down inside me? Chocolate perhaps?
I’m not sure, other, the one said gravely. I think you have to wait and hope for it to fade away. Chocolate never hurts, of course, but I’m not sure it’s strong enough to fix this.
Well, how can I avoid it in the future then? I do not want this regret feeling ever again, one, never ever.
I’m not sure you can totally avoid it, other! But you can try to take every opportunity that comes to you, and that way at least you have tried.
O, will I then not feel sad? Even if I try to take the opportunity but don’t make it? Even if I…fail?
I can’t promise you won’t feel sad, other. But your sadness will likely feel different than regret. It will be mixed in with the satisfaction of knowing you tried. So that might make it feel not so bad.
O, thank you, one! I think this was very helpful. You are so wise!
I’m glad, other! I am always happy to help.
Goodbye, one!
Goodbye, other! Until next time.
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s. d. stewart 