I’ve made a number of bad decisions in my life, some attributable to youth and ignorance, but more are attributable to a simple sense of mortality.

As a child, an adolescent and later a teen, my father would jest “I’ll be surprised if you live to see 30.” As children we’re apt to do with adults, I believed him. He was wise and knowing with the touches of grey at his temples and his big, round, smiling, baby blue eyes.

I have a picture of me in a box somewhere I’ve lost track of, I’m curled up and passed out on his chest in my wee footy pajamas. We were on one of the overstuffed brown leather chairs in our living room, and around us you can make out the red shag carpet, the wood (not wood panel) walls and a few artifacts only family members would recognize. In the picture my father is also K.O.ed – with a book in his hand, and me draped across his shoulder and side like a well worn blanket.

I was a clumsy child (still am. Both clumsy and a child.), which to an outsider may have been what sparked the comment, but it wasn’t. I ran through life with wild abandon and reckless enthusiasm. Through my 20’s – after he left me – I did more of the same. I was at life’s Suck Buffet, trying a little of everything: dating/marrying men who didn’t respect me, spending too much money on things that didn’t matter, jogging/walking solo at night on dark city streets in questionable neighborhoods. Mostly though, I ran from ghosts.

I finally turned 30 and held my breath. With eyes clamped shut so hard my nose wrinkled, I peeked with one eye, hoping I’d see it coming. I didn’t, and next came 31, and 32 and 33. I was still waiting for it. When I found my first lump/got the flu/had a toothache I though it was his prophecy. It wasn’t, and I came to understand this: I’m wrong a lot.

What the lump was, what his joke turned scar was, is this: a point of clarification. Live with intent. Choose carefully. Be kind – to yourself and to others.

I listened, though the truth is I’m still waiting for “it”, 6 years after 30. It’s lingering around like that final utility bill from years ago that hasn’t caught up to you yet but remains in limbo, angry and unpaid.

Until it tracks me down, I’ll be out here somewhere. Chasing dreams, smiling so big you can probably count my nose hairs and going on measured but daring adventures. I frequently imagine my father peeking out from around corners at the most perfect times and winking.

I get it.