That Pivotal Moment

Ever think of a moment where if you did something different that your life would have been different?

For me, it was early May 2006.  Last time I saw Harold in San Diego.  I had gotten left at the airport because he didn't know what day it was.  Yeah.  I still shake my head at that.  Drinking much?  Jackass.  First thing I did when I did get a shuttle to the hotel was call my mom and sob about what he did.

I was 37 and I said I want to go back home. I'm never going to meet anyone again.  I don't want to meet anyone after this.  My mom was upset for me and felt helpless.  I said I would stay a day and then try to book a flight back that Monday. I thought maybe I'll go to the zoo and book my flight.  I went to bed at 8:30 this night. I was exhausted from the flight and crying.  I woke up in the middle of the night and cried some more.

It was a miserable day the next day.  I thought I'll make the most out of the day and call Expedia.  I was going to lose $100 but I already lost my dignity.  What difference did it make?

I sat on a park bench and ate a churro while I watched families go by and tried to fight back the tears.  I thought I could meet someone.  I could possibly have a life with someone back in Milwaukee.  Maybe there was a family for me.

I was anxious to get back and make plans to go home and forget that I ever met this person.

As usual, Harold made a dramatic scene at the hotel and tried to find me.  He called my mom and swore to her that he loved me.  I bought the story again.  Hook.  Line.  Sucker.

I wonder sometimes what would have happened if I got back on that airplane that Monday?  

It was a painful lesson.  I realize that I had to leave home to find out that maybe there is someone here.  I just haven't knocked over their coffee yet with my clumsy ways.  

I still hope Harold has chronic diarrhea or balding though.  I can wish that, can't I?  

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