Push the envelope

When I was younger and filled with enthusiasm, optimism and Tiny Teddy biscuits, I used to love getting mail.

Mail represented hope. It represented fun, excitement and a connection to the outside world. 

There was something amazing about the potential in every envelope. One piece of paper could change your life in an instant.

Maybe I had won that cool prize-pack on Cheez TV. Maybe Luke Skywalker finally got my letters. Maybe the girl I had a crush on tracked down my address and was about to confess her love. Maybe, just maybe, Nintendo were going to hire me as their chief game-tester.

But, the dream that held a special place above the others was that one day, the Collingwood Football Club would write to my parents, asking if I could play for the Magpies.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ciconte, we’ve seen incredible potential in your son Dominic’s backyard kick-to-kick sessions and we’d like him to train with us and be a Collingwood footballer."

Fast forward 20 years and last week, filled with scepticism, bitterness and Tiny Teddy biscuits, I checked the mail

The mail now represents despair. It delivers bills, fines and bizarre religious pamphlets that offer to save my ‘eternal soul’. The fun and hope has been stripped away with the burdens and responsibilities of being an adult. 

Worst of all, there’s still no letter from Collingwood.

With every year that passes by, the chance of receiving that letter becomes less and less likely.

I'm starting to get old, my knees are not what they used to be, I haven't played football competitively for almost a decade and I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be coming in and easily taking a spot from professional athletes that have been training their whole lives for that opportunity – it would be selfish of me.

The dilemma made me think about the other things that may have passed me by. 

• Yesterday robbed me of the chance to drink the now-expired milk in my fridge.
• Last week saw me cross the vortex when non-contact for 12 months turns a friend into an ‘old friend’.
• In my working life, I’ve had seven opportunities to legitimately use the excuse “it’s my first day” and I’ve wasted them all.
• Last week I heard a sound bite of myself singing – I’ve since cancelled my plans for a world tour.
• Almost a decade ago, I lost the opportunity to speak to the man I was named after ever again.

Every day provides an opportunity to do something great, something amazing, something you’ll remember for the rest of your life. But, for each opportunity you gain, one slips away.

 
The trick is to make sure that you are taking more from each day than it’s taking from you. 

For many of us, most of our (realistic) dreams will be achievable until the day we die, but, there are some dreams that will slip away well before we’re ready to let them ago.
 

I guess knowing the right time to let go is a skill you gain while growing up – somewhere in that time period between being excited by the mail and being disappointed by it.

There are some dreams I’m willing to let go of, but, it’s going to be a long time before I give up on that letter from Collingwood.