20-some years ago my then employer opened an office in the Denver ‘burbs.
Back then I was more adventurous than I am now, and when the opportunity arose, I took Prime Minister Cretin’s advice, “If you don’t like it here, leave.”
So, I set up shop in Colorado, moved my entire life out there, even getting married and moving her out there. We were living playing in a truly great place, with no plans to return.
Unfortunately, man plans and God laughs. The office closed before I could get permanent residency status.
We tried for a couple of years to get back, but it simply wasn’t to be.
This morning wifey and I were reminiscing about a ski trip to Banff, and she said, It would be great to take the boys, but we’ll have to keep (kid 3) on a rope. Could you imagine him in Colorado? If he didn’t just disappear off a cliff, he’d be skiing blues with me.”
“No,” quoth I, “He’d be skiing black diamonds on the back bowls with me.”
Because our boys would have loved growing up in the mountains, there is the temptation to dwell on what might have been. What if the office hadn’t closed? What if I’d at least got my green card first?
Here’s the deal.
If one of those things had happened, different sperm would have met different eggs, and the boys wouldn’t be the boys. They’d be different and there is nothing under heaven that could make me wish that.
I’ve lost many things to my depression. One thing I never do is wish for what might have been, because wishing for what might have been means wishing away what you have.
And especially with those three wonderful boys, even with my depression, what I have is amazing.
