Where would I be now, I wonder, had I chosen to take the smooth, asphalt highway of life rather than the muddy and rutted cow trail that for some odd reason, proved much more appealing. Would I live in this house? Would I love the same man? Would I die for these very children? Such questions are silly as I’ll never know the answers and yet my heart balks at the thought of it being any other way. It adamantly shakes it’s head in refusal that it could be happier had I chosen the highway and not the horse trail… maybe I knew what I doing all along, although I doubt it. Luck, chance, and knowing which exits to take ( the ones with the least amount of cow shit) probably had much more to do with it. But then it’s easy to think of such things in the safety of your own life and what it’s become, despite the insurmountable odds. I am lucky 13, I am double sevens, I am the dark horse.
And guess what? I’ve beaten my own odds.