So many good things have happened that started out bad. A custody dispute that led to my second child. A husband who took a powder after only a few weeks of marriage but left a kind stepson who sticks with me to this day. A headmaster who fired me for doing pro bono psychic work for police in my free time, and that misjustice led me to be fully self-employed. An elementary teacher who had us write about a famous person, and since I could only think of men, I was driven to write a book about famous men’s mothers when I grew up. The high school English teacher who didn’t encourage those of us who started out as unskilled writers, so that every day for ten years as I wrote and researched my book, I said, I’ll show YOU.
As a senior in college, tired of a lifetime devotion to music, I felt lost until I met a stewardess who spun tales of her world travels. That led to my adventurous job with United Airlines. At forty, my lifetime murder nightmares led to my work with police. A bankrupt music store thrust me into my own business location. The heart-wrenching pushes I gave my children to leave the nest now mean sweet, distinctive visits to their New York City homes.
We all have them, the rough times that lead to good times. Holiday missteps that we vow never to repeat, and walks that we cherish. Disagreements that in retrospect are only splinters easily removed. New directions outshine the troubles, as mysteries and puzzles come to completion in marvelous ways.
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