Thinking back to my household growing up, I remember how all my family’s friends loved spending time at our house. My parents’ generous hospitality and plenteous amount of delicious homemade food was the main attraction. Our friends always made an excuse to eat our place—a tradition that my siblings and I are proud to carry on as well, compliments of our extraordinary parents.
I can’t believe I forgot about my Dad’s story until now. I wonder why only some of us have the fortune of sharing our talents with the world, while most of us are destined to a limited audience? Ten years ago, I was going to change the world! Now, I’m thankful we still have a world left. My brother jokes with me to this day about how he wanted me to share my insane musical and entertainment knowledge by becoming a prominent famous video and radio DJ. Why didn’t I? What happened? What got in the way? Why? As Alex and I ponder what seems to be yet another rhetorical question, we both come up with a blank. Maybe I will have the answer tomorrow. Next week. Soon. Next month. Next year? Maybe I will have the answer at my next morning therapy session. Will there ever be another morning therapy session? Will I ever have an answer?
Time to collect myself and get back to reality: my repetitive reality that somehow or other I feel better about. Though I’m sad this therapeutic epiphany is now coming to an end, I’m surprisingly clearer and happier than I was a few hours ago. I’m a tardy paralegal who needs to get back to law, and a new husband needs to wake and spend time with his new wife. As Alex and I exchange our goodbyes, I tell him, “I think I may write about this.” He replies, “I hope you do. I hope you get to see and catch up with your first crush again. I’m a sucker for serendipity.” I say, “As am I Alex. As am I.”
“Hey, one more thing—you should use the picture I will be e-mailing you. I hope you have the courage to write about this. Let me know if do; I look forward to reading it.” “Will do, Alex, and I promise to use your picture.” As I walk (not run) to my job, savoring the last moments of this truly unique and inspiring Morning, I think to myself, smiling (quelle surprise). Serendipity indeed.
By Lisa D. Montanino
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