Believe In Possibility (Especially When You Have Nothing Else)

Call me idealistic, but I believe in love on the next street corner. I believe that the person I pass walking on my lunch break could be the person by my side for the rest of my life. Some might think that’s a tad over-the-top, but the way I see it, what harm is there in believing in possibility?

If there is one thing of which I am most certain in this world, it’s randomness — by sheer accident, you could bump into somebody at the grocery store (literally bump into them as you both reach for a package of fresh pasta), and that chance encounter could end up being It. Your Story. Love. The person you bring home at Christmas. And fettuccine brought you together!

I believe that fleeting moments have the potential to be first memories. There’s a quote in an Ann Brashares book that goes, “Where there is nothing, there is the possibility of everything.” I stand by that. Where nothing exists, so much can happen. The guy at the gym with whom I exchange glances might be my future husband (or maybe my future gay best friend). But there’s so much darn POTENTIAL there, because right now there is nothing else.

Despite the odds, I believe in love. I believe that I might be single until I’m 47 and then I might just fall head-over-heels for the owner of the independent bookstore two streets over. In “Love Song For No One,” John Mayer sings, “I could have met you in the sandbox; I could have passed you on the sidewalk.” Those words resonate with me, but I like to think of them as less regretful, less looking back, and more looking forward. Not “I could have” but “I could”: I could meet you in the sandbox; I could pass you on the sidewalk. The next person you talk to could be a huge part of your life, but you don’t know it yet, and that is what energizes me in this life, what keep me going and moving and hoping and walking on my lunch break past all those people. Everything can be something.

It’s fun to look back months ago and think, would I have believed myself if I’d told Me At That Point In Time that this would have happened and that would have happened? The answer is typically no. 15 year-old me would never in a million years have believed how 19 year-old me lived. Even me a year ago would have laughed out loud if I’d told her what happened throughout the course of this past year. It exhilarates me and terrifies me to imagine what’s next — what crazy things will happen between now and one month from now, now and three months from now, now and one year from now, that current me would never believe? What lies ahead? The possibilities are endless, and I dwell in possibility.