Do you remember when we were hungry?
Do you remember when we were cold?
Do you remember when we were happy in a way
No one outside could ever know?
I wish I had one more life
How I wish I had one more life to live
Songs From an America Movie, Vol. 1
It’s amazing that we can set ourselves a goal, work like dogs to get there, and then look back on the process with fond memories. This is especially surprising in cases where the goal is acquired through a process pretty much the opposite of the goal. Perhaps you want your own house for the privacy and space. How do you get it? Live in a cramped apartment while you save. I’d give it at least even odds that you’ll think fondly of living in the apartment. Not that you’d remember it fondly enough to move back, mind you. Memory can have an amazing ability to edit the past.
In reference to the lyrics, although I’m far from death (assuming the average expectancy), I too would like one more life to live. It doesn’t even have to be a whole life. I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I’d be to edit the past and continue to live from this point on with those changes…changes that aren’t mine to make outside of a daydream.
We’re fortunate to not have the ability to make changes to our past, or the others’ past. I’ve known people who were in truly awful marriages. Yet they have children they love very much. If they have the power to erase the marriage, the children would disappear with it. Keep the kids and the marriage is required. I bet the suicide rate would be atrocious.
It’s fraught with danger. Changes may not work out the way we expect. Attempt too fundamental a change and the result could make you a different person. The farther back in time the change is made, the more chance of unforeseen consequences cascading forward to the present. I suspect people deciding to risk change would regret it more often than not.
I’d do it anyway.