Good or bad, my past is dead, buried, gone.
If it crawled from its grave and reached out to me with it skeletal fingers and tried to draw me close to its bony chest for a hug, I’d whip out a bone saw and turn it into legos.
I think that when we’re given the chance to have a new day where anything is possible why or why would I want to reach back and pull out a re-run.
I know how that story goes, I know how that story ends.
If all I want is a warm fuzzy feeling, I’ll put on my favorite Hello Kitty Fleece pajamas and drink hot chocolate with giant marshmallows jammed into the mug.
A new day is exactly that- anything can happen, or maybe nothing will.
You never know, one morning you could wake up and find yourself married to Doctor Who and smooching on another planet while watching the sun rise
Or while you might have a few minutes to kill before your bus or train leaves for the commute home and you could go into that bakery on the corner and buy the most delicious, the most fluffiest, the sweetest most beautiful looking cupcakes known to humankind
The point is, I have zero chance of the cool things happening to me if I spend time, any time at all wallowing around in my past trying to live that one golden moment.
I’d rather be out there making the moments I have golden.