We all have
unheard melodies in our lives.
The person
we didn’t marry, the job we didn’t take, the city we never moved to, the trip
we postponed, the conversation we never had, the dream we quietly put away.
Since those
lives were never the ones we lived, they remain perfect in our imagination.
They never had to deal with mortgages, arguments, Monday mornings, sick kids,
pissed off bosses or flat tires.
The life you didn't live has one
enormous advantage over the life you did. It never had the opportunity to
disappoint you.
At sixty, it becomes easy to look backward
and romanticize the roads not taken.
… But maybe Keats's “unheard melodies”
aren't telling us we chose wrong. Maybe they are reminding us that imagination
will always make the unlived life sound sweeter.
Meanwhile, the life we actually
chose is noisy and imperfect. It has missed notes, but it is our song.
Maybe the trick isn't wondering how
beautiful the unheard melody might have been. It is listening closely
enough to appreciate the one that is still playing.
Put the needle on the record Chalkheads
and sing like the world really is listening.
