Yes, I would love more time, to write and read and think--sure I would also like to be thinner and younger and richer but none of those things, if those are even possible things, would make me happier. Maybe the time thing could but maybe not--not if I had to trade time with my baby girl. Missing her is not worth the pot. (And if I'm being honest, I had time (before her, before all this) to write and think and listen to Beck and smoke pot. And I did.)
There's a article going around about what people regretted at the end of their lives and most people regretted working too much, not allowing themselves to be happy, not following their dreams, losing touch with friends, and being afraid to be themselves. Out of this list of things possible missed, I feel pretty good about my life. I have great life-long friends. I have a job. I am myself. Maybe I could work more on following my "dream" but that dream changes and shifts tectonically under my feet.
I'm not soul searching. I went through a dark time and kept going--"when you're going through hell, keep going"? Now I'm good. I'm happy. There, I said it.