Untold Stories

Everything happens exactly as it should.

I'm not sure if I believed that the first time I heard it.  I do now.

Big bangs and denim skirts.  I guess it doesn't matter that I saw her first.  Maybe, I'm homesick or agoraphobic.  What was a lifetime ago still sometimes hurts.

I had big ideas and even bigger dreams.  I was probably a little arrogant for my own good.  I used to blame it on the nurses who would pinch my cheeks and warn me of some future army of women that would be tearing down my door.  Later on, I blamed it on those random old women standing in line behind me at the grocery store who couldn't help but mention my long eyelashes. 

When you start believing your own greatness, it becomes the death of your creativity. 

I always try to balance my healthy ego with some self-deprecation.  And usually when I am leaning on my healthy ego; saying things like I am better than most or You're lucky to have me, I am usually lying.  An ego is only as healthy as the reality that shields it. 

I wanted to ask her if she's ever felt empty.  If the burden of perfection becomes too heavy.  If the one that got away came swimming after me, I'd have no choice but to abandon the sea. 

I think we get one chance to get it right.  And no matter the outcome, we always do get it right.  It goes back to that saying that everything happens just as it should. 

Guilt is like a bag of fucking bricks.  All you gotta do is set it down.  And when I hear that, I can only think, its easier said than done.  I came to the conclusion that guilt is a remarkable tool.  It's narcissism disguised as empathy or maybe vice versa.  I say that because feeling guilty about something is just a way of second guessing an outcome we weren't expecting.  Who are we to question such outcomes or God or destiny or the universe? 

I used to get really angry at my old dog.  Like when he barked for no reason or when he became super excited at the sound of my car keys.  I'd yell at him; sometimes, smack him on the nose.  And he would just look at me with forgiveness in his eyes.  When he died, I realized that there is nothing more merciful than a dog.  They are kind creatures.  Kindness is not something I've ever attributed to an animal but it's befitting of a dog. 

His demands were simple:  food, a home and a little love.  In return, he promised me forgiveness for all my past, present and future misguided frustration.  One time, I took him outside to go the bathroom.  He ran off.  I spent 6 hours looking for him in our maze-like condo complex.  I was screaming his name; frantically asking neighbors if they had seen a black lab running loose.  I thought I had lost him forever. 

After a long search that involved walking, driving, running, screaming and panicking, I found him.  He was passed out under a tree.  He was exhausted from his little adventure.   I didn't know if I should yell at him or just hug him.  I chose both. 

When we got back into our home, as I was seething with anger yet overcome with gratitude, he just slept.  He looked so peaceful.  When he finally awoke hours later, I asked him if he got homesick.  And he licked my hand. 


I've got so many stories I will never get to share with her and I am sure she's got plenty more than me.  I guess some people come into our life for brief periods of time.  And I suppose, most details are lost but certain aspects of that person are never forgotten... Like how she made you feel.  Or her denim skirts. 

I've got a lot of gratitude for so many people.  I used to focus on my guilt or my anger for my perceived short comings.  And I used to think my choices, my inaction and my lack of foresight ruined what should have been a better story.  I know now that everything happens exactly as it should.