But it never seemed like the right time...

....I've lived in the South for a long time, and in that time I've traveled outside of VA twice. Not in a plane, just driving, y'know-in my car. I've never gone any where, or done anything, or seen every thing I wanted to see. Grandfather mountain, the gem-belt in N.C. Luray Caverns and Harper's Ferry. I would pick up brochures and say, "well, maybe one day."

I was always too busy, or tired, or broke--sometimes a combination of all three. I once rode Amtrak cross-country on the Empire Builder, and remember being impressed with Chicago, marveling at the sunflower fields and sheer nothingness of Montana.

When we'd stop, my kids would get out and suck in the strange air, and I'd sit in my chair, safe and comfortable, knowing that if the train left without them, I'd be there. A fail-safe. When the hell did I stop taking chances?

I haven't done anything or gone anywhere, I'm so focused forward--I've forgotten to stop and look around, because--yeah, today is gone the minute you take another breath. And for every choice you make, another possibility ends. Life is a series of doors, but every door only opens in one direction and you can never go back.

I'll never have yesterday, but I can have tomorrow. And this time.

I have a list.