why we’re here
It’s right to praise the random,
the tiny god of probability that brought us here… (from “Why I’m Here” by Jacqueline Berger)
I am here on this earth because my Uncle Don wanted to take my now-Aunt Wanda on a date in the summer of 1940. Just one problem: it wasn’t his night for the car he shared with my father. So, clever man that he was, Don persuaded my mom to drive with him and Wanda to the home farm, knowing my dad was too much the gentleman to not go on the strategic double/blind date. Seventy years later, Mom’s eyes still shine when she recounts seeing Carl Thompson the first time. Black-haired, blue-eyed, bare-chested, just 21, carrying three buckets of milk back from the barn, his evening chores completed.
I am here in this city because my first husband lost his job at Centerville Community College and a friend of his from Texas Tech invited him to job-search in Colorado. One of those guys moved back to Texas, the other to Oklahoma. I’m planted. And most days, life blooms.
I am here this morning, readying this post, because my daughter and I decided last fall we would not surrender to homesickness and creative fears. We would Skype and we would write and we would read each other’s work and call it for what it was. At the very least, we would be able to give Lily a real-time record of how two women preceding her saw their everyday worlds during her first year on the planet.
Which brings me to the other reason I believe I’m here this morning, and that’s to ask a question:
In your work today…in your circle of family and friends…in this moment: why are you here?
Photo: Route 66, Arizona