One Year Ago: A Reflection

This time of year has gotten tougher over the years for me. November is my dad’s death anniversary and last year was particularly hard, as it was the first year without my mom for Thanksgiving; even if we fought every step of the way, it was still our day, meat stuffing battle having only been finally won one year before her death. I should have let her have her damn meat stuffing.

The last few years before it were hard too. In a wheelchair, struggling to breathe, strapped to an oxygen tank, my mom often felt like a burden in my chaotic and busy life. It doesn’t feel good to say that. But it is the truth. I loved her the best I could. And I miss her.

Right now, right this very minute, I think about how fleeting moments are. Truly fleeting. Something so important in one moment vanishes the next. It is only over time that we realize which moments and people will really matter. I reflect on this very time last year. I hadn’t yet published Thorne, but was fully immersed. I met new friends, new writers and mentors, supporters and confidantes. And I had the opportunity to take a chance. A chance to meet someone. A café. A rendezvous. A little restaurant in Boston. One night. A very different Thanksgiving. A way to get my mind off tradition. Get away, perhaps, from what I always do, to get away, even, from the person I have always been. Why not, I asked myself. Why the hell not? Peccavi.

And the answer is simple. I rarely take chances or risks. I knew it then, and I certainly know it now--he would only break my heart. And here’s the rub. My heart got broken anyway…as I somehow always knew it would. I was playing with fire. I got scorched.

Over the summer, I finally took a chance and took a trip, alone, to a different country. A fear realized and faced. A risk. A chance. But it was a safe risk, one where my heart wouldn’t be broken, one that didn’t require putting my heart on the line. My heart was tucked away safely. So I ask, is it ever worth it to take a risk involving one’s heart, where the cards are completely stacked so strongly against you, even the strongest wind couldn’t remove them?
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I still don’t know. Hearts will be broken. Do I regret that I never took that chance last Thanksgiving? Absolutely not. That is a moment that has proven not to have mattered. And I’m grateful that I am the person I am. Our sixth sense is profound. And I think mine is 6 cubed. Still, I romanticize of what could have been…if even only for one night. I’m a romantic that way. But of course, that’s no secret, now is it?