That car accident you witness from a few vehicles back. The clash of crumpling metal and the screech of tires across macadam. It's an accident that could have involved you, if only you hadn't dropped your keys when you locked your apartment door. Run back in to make sure you unplugged the iron. Slowed up at a yellow light a mile back instead of gunning it to clear the intersection
That twenty-dollar-bill you find crumpled up in the parking lot. The absence of nearby cars confirms it is yours to take. Yet you could have missed it had the moron in front of you at the ATM not processed seventeen transactions. The newbie cashier had a formal grasp on keying manufacturer's coupons. The shopping cart had four functioning wheels so you didn't need to randomly pause to get them moving straight.
That friend you met during your sophomore year of college after transferring from another school. It is a friendship that has shaped you, made you a better person, and blossomed into an unbreakable bond spanning decades. But it is a friendship that could have never happened had you transferred instead to Duke. Had you actually been placed in the dorm you requested. Had you been off exploring the campus while she poked her head into open doors.
That Charleston cocktail party your college friend invites you to attend. Though you know only one other guest, you find yourself chatting with a Connecticut man in town visiting his father. But that meeting in the garden would have never occurred had you kept your original plan of visiting the week prior. Had he canceled the trip when his girls' school shortened spring break to make up for snow days. Had you remained by your friend's side in the kitchen, quietly admiring portraits and eavesdropping on conversations.
That business trip to Manhattan. A coworker asks for assistance and you welcome the chance to revisit a city that has always felt like home. It is a trip that opens the door to laugh with a friend over manicures, sip French press coffee in a charming Grammercy cafe, and partake in a date with that man you met in Charleston. It is a trip that wouldn't have happened had you had other work commitments. Had you agreed to help a friend move. Had you determined it would make an already hectic travel schedule unbearable.
That Thursday evening date in Manhattan with the man you met in Charleston. You buy a dress, get your tresses tamed, and practice walking in heels in anticipation of making him weak in the knees, again. It is a date that had immense potential, had his Texas-based client not insisted on extending his visit through dinner Friday. Had his recent thoughts not included confusion about his unraveling marriage. Had you not evolved to the point of wanting nothing less than one-hundred percent of a man's attention, love and support.