And then, one day you find/ Ten years have got behind you

Amanda's post got me to thinking about how life can become so radically different within a few years, whether we steer ourselves onto another path, or whether circumstances carry us there.

In the summer of 1995, I lived in a small bedroom in a rented house in an upscale suburban neighborhood. It stood just three blocks from the hospital where I worked as an operating room nurse.

I had just broken up with a guy my parents LOVED. He was a terrific guy, but something was missing. Difficult thing to do. It was a pretty lonely time. I was 27, and I felt that I was a failure in the intimacy department. I was convinced I would probably never marry, and kids? Nope. No way.

One night that summer, I was driving home from an outdoor opera-in-the-park that I attended... alone. Some jerky guy in a Mercedes rear-ended me on the highway. I made him call the cops, although I was nice about the whole thing. (He, on the other hand, was a sneaky asshole.) His car was totaled, whereas my Jeep Cherokee's back bumper and tailgate were just a bit crumpled.

I watched as his wife came to the scene to pick him up. I realized then that I didn't have anyone to call. I drove the few blocks home to an empty house.


That year, for stupid reasons, I spent Thanksgiving alone. I ate cold spaghetti, for God's sake. I was a pathetic fool.

As I recount this ridiculous tale of woe, I am unable to even be alone to type it. I sit on Ian's bed, Batman pillow behind my back, patting his nightmare away. It's like Amanda said. This child sleeping next to me, the one who spills his milk daily, rips leather furniture, wakes up the finally napping baby, this child and his brothers, and their father, is the reason you cannot tell me God is dead.


My "where was I then?" tale does not come close to the gravity of Amanda's journey, or of her accomplishments. I do feel as though I've found my place in this world; that I am exactly where I'm meant to be. I hope it's so.