LAYLA:
I found this chapter short, simple and beautiful. I was struck by how Whyte links age to the way we experience regret—it’s an idea I’d never come across before, yet it makes a lot of sense. Regrets in youth aren’t always useful, unless they push us to change how we behave toward others. This is probably because regrets when we’re young tend to be hollow and unproductive, only adding to the pile of sticks we like to beat ourselves up with. We blame ourselves and obsess over what should have been instead of using regret as a lesson.
That’s why mature regret feels more interesting and practical- you can make mistakes without lambasting yourself, which in turn allows you to take more risks. I’m starting to sense the first signs of it and it’s making life feel lighter- maybe even preventing me from missing certain opportunities. For most people the Mark Twain quote is true- “We regret the things we don’t do more than the things we do.”
I like that Whyte gives regret a positive spin. So often we’re told it’s something to block out or avoid. But what if it’s a doorway into reflection? It can help us to grow and make better choices in the future- as long as we don’t dwell on it too long.
I’m especially curious to hear Patrizia’s and Brunella’s perspective on this contrast between youthful vs mature regret, because I imagine they’ve experienced both…

PATRIZIA:
I would define regret as a feeling of nostalgic sadness evoked by past events which often underlies a question: what would have changed if…?
And regret can make sense if instrumental to some form of learning aimed at avoiding behaviours that, in hindsight, we have judged not ideal.
Other than that, it has no use for me. Once identified the lesson, the mind should return to focus on the present, make the necessary adjustments and imagine a wiser future.
Sitting in regret is a futile exercise in self-flagellation capable of obscuring the beauty that is in the present.
People who practice gratitude and cultivate joy in their daily life are not weighed down by regrets. They accept that we are all actors forced to improvise our lives, scene after scene, with no script. Every situation is a “We’ve got only one take…and action!”. Those people know that if they could repeat the same scene they would do better, but that there is no going back. Words and actions are solidified in the moment and consigned to the past. The present is all that is left.
But I know that I can say all this because no event in the past has been so impactful as to derail my life. Plus, my poor memory, and consequent feeble propensity for nostalgia, combined with my happiness in the present and gratitude for what I have and have had, protect me from regrets.
I consider it a privilege that I am lucky enough to enjoy.

BRUNELLA:
The chapter was beautiful and so was Whyte’s definition of regret: “a short, evocative word, full of aching beauty, an elegy to lost possibilities.”
And really—who doesn’t have regrets?
It takes maturity to truly feel regret, and if time is on your side, there’s always a chance to make amends. With old age, everything changes: many regrets, but fewer opportunities.
My sweet and beautiful Layla, your ninety-year-old Nonna takes comfort in reminding herself that age is nothing more than a state of mind. Even if it narrows my range of interests and activities, it doesn’t take away all possibilities. Silvia gave me the book The Experimental Age, encouraging me to see old age not as a decline, but as a new opportunity—a climb rather than a descent. To live old, yet remain young at heart.

“A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.” —John Barrymore.

Your Nonna has made plenty of mistakes… but they say an expert is simply someone who has made every mistake possible.