I woke up late this morning, 7:07 am, that's practically the middle of the day for me. For many, many years I've been a light sleeper and an early morning riser.
I love the quiet sounds of my home and neighborhood as they wake up. The steamy burble of the coffee maker and the aroma that fills the house comfort me. The neighbor's kid across the street has a summer job and I usually hear him drive away at 6:00 am. For years, a woman I've never met runs along the bike path also around 6:00. I see her from my kitchen window. I missed them both this morning.
All is as it ought to be. I am well. I am happy. I am.
Back in 1998, on June 13th, it was a Saturday, I take my cup of coffee to the white sofa in in the living room, I still have that old thing. I had been actively running for a couple of years in anticipation of my fortieth birthday. I wanted to feel and be fit and strong. And I was. I finished my first (and what has so far turned out to be my only) half-marathon the previous weekend. I loved reading "Runner's World" magazine and may have been reading that or a novel or non-fiction. I usually have several books going on at the same time.
All was as it ought to have been. I was well. I was happy. I was me.
That morning, I had no idea that my life was about to take a turn that would chart a course that would change me forever. One small choice made by someone else changed everything.
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