It was on New Years of 1989 that I unknowningly met the woman I would spend the next twenty years of my life married to. It developed in the most unfathomable way.
Depression had taken hold before my third year of college. One day, I lied to my boss just so I could sleep longer. The lie blew up in my face two weeks later and I was suspended from my job. My parents, desperate for what to do with me, shipped me back to college hoping that would fix the problem.
Things went from bad to worse. I forgot to go to classes, tried Prozac without success, left my job in a lurch, and ended the semester with a solid list of UW credit—Unofficial Withdrawal—in essence, F-credit.
I went home and slept through Christmas.
I met her New Years Eve. Including the unforeseeable surprise she was a woman, we came together slowly over a year and were together for twenty.
I’ve looked back on the series of events of this two years and continue to be astounded by what transpired. I can only answer that something in me knew.
Consciously, I was asleep. But what we often call fate is really something wise and knowing inside of us with the subtlest guiding hands moving us through what looks like abject failure so that we line up perfectly with the next most perfect adventure.