It was a beautiful autumn morning. The leaves were falling lazily from their branches, their warm tones contrasting with the crisp air. As they littered the ground around us I reached for a doughnut.
“Charles,” said my companion, John. “Do you think about the past much? The things that were?”
I took a bite from my doughy delight and thought for a moment about his question. It was phrased strangely to me. Being focused on the things that were, and not the way they were. Like longing for an old car that you used to own, while simultaneously ignoring all of the problems that caused you to sell it in the first place.
“I suppose I don’t,” I said. “I think that I prefer to look to what’s to come, rather than worry about what already has.”
John grabbed a chocolate frosted and contemplated my answer. It was obviously not what he was expecting. Perhaps he was thrown by the switch-up - asking about one thing and receiving an answer about something different.
“So you really don’t dwell? You don’t commiserate, none of that?” He asked.
“I suppose I dwell sometimes,” I said. “But I try not to; I try to move on quickly. It’s just futile to me to lust after something that’s already come and gone. If I want something back I try to focus on what I can do to get it back. The steps I can take to bring my desires to fruition.”
“Huh,” he grunted out between bites.
“I wonder what today’s future holds for us,” I said as I reached for another doughnut. “I hope it’s as nice as breakfast.”