I met her today. I catch glimpses of her almost every day now. Sometimes, she sits with me for an entire day. It’s not like it used to be. We aren’t strangers anymore. I get to sit with her, talk to her, share my dreams and hopes with her. And she does the same.
I wonder if we had met way back in our 20s, how my life would have turned out. Would I have had the friendships I did? Would I have married the man I did? Would I have turned away from that marriage, if I had known her back then?
My first real glimpse of her was on a sunny October afternoon in 2017. It was just for a few moments. I remember it well. She showed herself and went back into hiding. She propelled me into action and left for me to take care of the rest. It would take her a few good years to resurface. To show herself fully. That glimpse was my rope. The rope I used to climb back into my life. It was my hope. My fervent hope of getting to meet her, be with her, be close to her, be her. So, I climbed back up and held on.
She tells me she has always been in my life. Sometimes, I can remember her, sometimes, I can’t. I remember she showed up that one moment when I refused to lose a match, when I refused to back down. I remember she showed up in an argument once at my Uncle’s funeral. She tells me she was there in all the fights she witnessed and the addiction she vicariously lived through. I don’t remember those bits. But I guess she was always there.
She is my will to live. My will to survive. My will to thrive. She is me and I am her. I belong to her and she belongs to me. And that is all there is to it…
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