What Might Have Been

We were washing dishes together last night.  Standing elbow-to-elbow in my cramped kitchen.  We had been discussing safe sex.

As teenagers (OK, I was a teenager, he wasn’t) we weren’t always as careful as we should have been.  And then it crossed my mind: we could have a nine year old.  How’s that for a scarry thought?  And just how different would our lives be?

I know that there’s really no point in thoughts like these.  But now the thought is stuck there and won’t go away.  All these silly questions come with it.  Would I have even finished highschool?  Would we have been able to pull our heads out of our asses and grow up?  Or would we have driven each other insane and ended bitter and nasty?

There would be no PB or J.  I never would have gotten invloved with either PsychoStalker or Icks.  I probably wouldn’t have gone to college, and certainly wouldn’t have started when I did.  Heck, I would have been very pregnant the summer I started college.

I think, that even then, we would have pulled togther.  That the influence of fantasy novels would have been enough (on both of us) to have made us get married and do our best.  But it’s so hard to really know.  We were so selfish, so busy wallowing in heartache and angst.  Maybe we would have had a happy ending.

But much as I could wish that we had spent the last ten years toghter, that we hadn’t wasted so much time apart, I am really happy to have what we have now.  And if the past had happened differently now would be very different, too.  Maybe our now would be better, but we might not have learned all the lessons we got in the last decade.

Yet I can still see us as that happy family, me and him and our children.  I’d never have to send him off because Icks is coming to see J.  I would have all the scars that come from abuse and trauma.  There would be no wondering if there’s child support coming this month (and seeing as today’s the 21st I doubt that there is).  He wouldn’t be at home in his bed tonight while I am alone in mine.

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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