I realize how trite it might sound…but if I could do it all over again…I wouldn’t be so rash and prone to walking away because of a bump in the road that wasn’t even a deal breaker or something I refused to live with. Today I’d be more apt to stop and wrap myself in the blessing of actually having someone pose that infamous question others dream about answering: “Will you be my wife?” Yes, I know you asked sincerely, sweetly, honestly, humbly, without any coercion on my part, like “So when are you going to marry me?” Who knows why relationships turn out the way they do? (But let you tell it…we weren’t together long enough to consider ourselves in a relationship, funny) I’m trying to believe all things happen for a reason, but somehow I’m beginning to wonder if that’s just a pat phrase that has become lore or if it surges with a tantalizing truth that will come clearer, like the words in a hymn my grandparents loved, by and by. In the middle of nights when I lie awake star-gazing, I reflect. Count the stars and try not to tip downstairs for a midnight snack but lie right here and ask myself, “How often does that question come in life? Is there a rewind button on it?” Yep, I know. One of my challenges is letting someone in close enough to really know me to love me. Huh uh, I confided in a friend just yesterday that I can love others quite genially from afar, but let someone stroll out of the ether, and I metamorphose into a Black Widow or Brown Recluse and flex my seemingly poisonous fangs (do spiders have fangs?) and you’re in peril, although had you stayed or got me to stay, you’d have found that I both loved and adored you, too! Nothing, you know, is ever what it seems.