The Sliver in the Crack

I stepped into Empanada Mama on 9th Street and was immediately struck by the sensation of what it would be like if I lead a different life. As if I was a traveler on a moving sidewalk who was miraculously able to see through a sliver-sized crack in the passing wall to the scene beyond.

The image it presented was an entire alternate life where I was single, childless and living in the depths of New York City. The scents and sounds were deep and rich, and I felt at-home, but I didn’t have my son. And because of it there was a certain lack of life and love as well.

Would this have been my life had I had different parents? Taken different routes and made other choices?

The music vibrated overhead as a crisp breeze blew over patrons from the exposed vents above. And I couldn’t help but think a year ago I was having lunch with someone that I was ready to champion without knowing more than a few months.

I’m in such a different place now. And it may not be what the sliver in the crack presented, but I know it’s down a better path than the one I was originally headed.

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