It’s 6 am and I’m sitting in bed thinking whether mixed veggies go better with turkey breast than potatoe wedges. But also how peculiar is it really that 366 days ago the entire universe conspired to put me in your virtual way and put you in mine? Was it a year ago or was it last November? Sometime after my birthday when I thought, hey, why not; let’s browse through hundreds of unfamiliar faces to kill time, and hopefully, temporarily, wound emptiness in the chest with a conversation? I had one about the butterfly effect, and then I had you.
Was it last November or last August? When I made too many questionable decisions that led me right to a therapist’s doorstep weighed down by the world and the obsessive need to sabotage all that glitters and shines because drowning in black tasted like living. And living tasted a little too much like dying.
Was it last August or last May? When new didn’t suffice so I dug for insane, filled the boxes of a universal checklist and had my heart aflutter at murmurs of concern and gasps of awe alike. I fed myself love and experience. Don’t they always say, you have to love yourself first?
Or was it January, 2017? The day I gave one thing and took many? Or, no, April, 2016, the day I gave up one thing and took, oh, so many? Was it December, 2011, when the game offered two options, the kind that comes with consequences, and I chose the one that I feared most? Crossed a road to this life and never looked back?
Was it December 2nd, 2017, when you made me giggle for the first time, or, could be, January 1st, 2018, when you tucked me in bed for the first time?
I don’t know. One tiny detail could have changed along the way and altered the course of our lives. I could have flown to faraway lands, a continent between us; we wouldn’t have known. I could have spun in circles over one thing or the other, drove past you in a car at 2 am and we wouldn’t have known. Could have ignored that, “hey,” clicked on another unfamiliar face, threw a joke they didn’t get then went to sleep. We couldn’t have known. But I didn’t. I’m glad.
January 26, March 1st, March 17th; I love you, when did it stop being an “act of God,”? A string of events and choices we couldn’t foresee. When did we choose? When did we, willingly, consciously? Was it April 17th, May the 3rd, June 18th? Last weekend? Today?
Is it today? Tomorrow? Every day? One butterfly flapped its wings in New Mexico, and here we are, until you, or I, or the world doth us part.