Chance.
Chance is, as defined by Dictionary.com, "the occurrence and development of events in the absence of any obvious design." Absence of any obvious design. I like that part. The part where it assures us that sometimes shit just happens. Seemingly without any rhyme or reason. That's such a maddening concept.
When my mom was diagnosed with cancer in 2015, I asked a god I no longer believe in for the reason. Why cancer? Why her? Why like this? Why now, when we hadn't yet figured out how to be mother and daughter? When we were again estranged or "no contact."
There wasn't a reason. There was no cosmic force that plucked my mother out of billions and decided it was time for her to die an incredibly painful and dehumanizing death. No one set that path in motion. There was no obvious design. Shit just happened.
Chance is a funny thing. And a tragic thing. And sometimes it's a marvelous thing.
By chance someone saw a TikTok of mine. And that someone followed me. And eventually emailed me. And offered worked to me. And then worked for me. And now works alongside me. And now I have an incredible manager who is becoming a friend. Someone I trust and believe in. Someone who has my back. Someone whose back I feel so honored to have as well.
It just happened one day. For no obvious reason at all.
Yeah, shit happens, but sometimes it's the good shit. Every so often, it's really, really good shit. And that makes all the other shit tolerable. Sometimes your mom dies of cancer and you don't go to her funeral.
And sometimes you get your dream job and you're sitting at a laptop you paid for, on a bed you paid for, listening to The Dreamer by Immanuel Wilkins, in a bedroom that looks like something you put together in The Sims 4, and you are loved. And respected. And safe.
And it is enough.
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