I would like a second chance.
I would like not to have asthma that leaves me short of breath these November mornings.
I would like not to have allergies that make me sneeze or my eyes run or my skin break out in rashes.
I would like to have been good at something sporting; not brilliant, just good enough to have made a team.
I would like to have been artistic; it doesn’t matter what, painting, drawing, sculpture, photography, anything would have done.
I would like to have been musical; just enough to be able to sit down at the piano and pick out the odd tune.
I would like to have been able to sing, not be in a choir or anything like that, certainly not to be singing solos; just to be able to sing the same tune as everyone else.
I would like to have been good with my hands; metalwork, woodwork, electronics, anything practical, so I wouldn’t manage to stick a screwdriver into my hand when I’m changing a plug.
I would like to have had a feel for the world around me; instead of knowing two trees and four flowers.
I would like to have been good at dancing and to have been fun at parties, instead of having sticking out feet and a dread of having to meet strangers.
I would like to have been able to remember stories and poems and plays, just a few lines to pass myself at the appropriate occasions.
i would like to be assertive and confident and able to cope with the most difficult situation, instead of having a sinking feeling in my stomach at the slightest awkward phone call.
I would like to be a good speaker, instead of getting through my lines at the speed of a commentator in the closing furlong of the Derby.
I would like lots of things on my second chance, God.
Except sitting in church last night, I read Moses say, “Here I am”.
Here I am, and here each one of us is.
And there’s no second chance.
So, God, just one favour. please. A pass mark, 50%, and I will ask no more.