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On the night I made the mistake, I had no idea I was doing anything wrong. I was clueless. Even arrogant. Within five or six years, though, I had grown enough — and learned enough about myself — that I had to apologize to someone for that night.

It was about 15 years ago. I was getting to know a woman who I’d recently met. We would go on to date seriously and almost marry. But on that night, we were still getting to know each other. She had graduated from college with an education degree and was about to start teaching. But I thought she was too smart and too capable for teaching school.

I don’t remember how I worded it, but I let her know that I thought she would be wasting herself if that’s what she did with her life. I let her know that she was capable of far more than that — and I subtly made it clear that I would prefer she did something more “impressive.”

I was more concerned that night with what I wanted her to be than with what she wanted. My mind was focused on how her choice would reflect on me. I was blind to my error at the time, but I’m ashamed of it now.

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As the little boy struggled to run toward me, his mother seemed a bit embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but he seems to want to come to you. I don’t know why.”

Her 2-year-old son ran to me with his little arms extended and I reached down to pick him up. His mother smiled as she realized that I wasn’t bothered by her son’s eagerness for attention. As the toddler threw his arms around my neck and hugged me tightly, I told her that I found her son delightful.

I don’t know why this little boy was so eager to see me. He and his mother had just arrived to look at a home that I was showing to them. He had certainly never seen me before. But he wanted my attention — and I was delighted to give it to him.

The meeting was only a few minutes. There wasn’t really anything of lasting importance about it. But as I look back over my day Monday, those are the only minutes that stand out as enjoyable and meaningful.

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I had another birthday last week. They seem to show up more quickly every year now. When I look in the mirror, I still see a 30-year-old man — but I wonder what others see.

For at least 10 years now — maybe 20 — I’ve had a list of things I need to change to make my life what I want it to be. I’ve made a lot of excuses about why I haven’t made those changes. Some of the excuses are pretty decent — even reasonable — but others are just self-indulgent whining.

I’m not yet where I want to be. I’m not yet who I want to be. And there’s a part of me which keeps telling me the lie that I still have forever to make those changes.

As I drove home from dinner Saturday night, I was almost hit by a speeding car which was running from a police car that was right behind it. I was on a four-lane highway which has a turn lane in the middle. I was stopped in the turn lane and was moments from darting to the left through an opening in traffic.

As I was about to accelerate into my left turn, I saw blue lights in my rear-view mirror — and then I realized the police car was chasing someone who was speeding directly toward me. I realized in horror that there was no way either of the cars could possibly stop.

They were about to hit me — and I thought I was about to die.

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