One More Time

“One more time.” Anytime my grandson Archer wants to keep doing something, that is what he exclaims. His older brother, Owen, keeps it simpler. “More.” 

If it is time to leave the park or walk away from their toys outside and go inside for a meal, there is a good chance they will make those statements. When they bring up previous visits to an airport or a fire station, it is the same.

Sometimes, especially when I am relaxing in the evening and listening to music, I reflect on experiences in my past and say the same in my mind. “One More Time.” And, “More.”

I believe many of us think the same. There are past experiences we want to do again. And, like the boys, we really would like to do it again much more than one more time.

Here is a partial list of experiences I want to do again:

–Run with high school friends after school along roads surrounded by pretty neighborhoods, woods and fields.

–Tag along with my grandfather as he drove his pickup from town to town delivering tires to gas stations and ranches in East Texas, while I sat next to him with the Bazooka gum, Three Musketeers bars and Dr. Pepper drinks he bought me.

–Walk into the little house where my family lived throughout my teens and find my mother sitting in her favorite chair, where she often sat quietly alone at night smoking a cigarette. 

–Attend a literature class in high school where a favorite teacher in my senior year introduced me to the writings of William Faulkner and devoted much of his own time to sparking an intellectual passion that stayed with me through graduate school and well beyond.

–Work alongside my stepfather at his auto paint and body shop, where I learned to do every little thing the right way and feel good about my work.

–Go on bike rides and walks with my wife, Candace, around our college campus and the little Texas town where it was located.

–With Candace, take our toddlers Tyler and Cassie to Wrightsville Beach where they loved to play.

–With Candace and our children, attend a minor league baseball game where they asked for autographs and tried to grab foul balls.

–Leave Wake Forest’s campus on a five-mile run or my home on a seven-mile run.

–Meet one of my greatest-ever friends for lunch and talk about whatever is on our minds.

Naturally, time has passed. People have passed, in some cases. I can only replay these experiences in my mind. 

Fortunately, I still have opportunities for many new memorable experiences with my family and friends. That is where I devote my time and energies. But, I cannot help but wish, sometimes.