What if...

So last week while sitting for 2.5 hrs in the Dr.'s office waiting for my regular checkup. I started reading the very outdated magazines (nearly as old as my last visit). I thumbed through many OK!, Black Entrepreneur, The Times, Newsweek, and others. When reading Newsweek from April 2007 I came across an article by Anna Quindlen entitled "The Weight of What-If"

This article really hit home for me and made me ponder many things about the world and my life. Her article mainly talks about war and how the politicians in todays world don't ever see the playing field of war and how they don't think about the "what-ifs" linked to wedding engagements never fulfilled, "orphaned children, towns denuded," etc. Her article wasn't political but was about the regular people and how we wonder about the what-ifs, especially in relation to war. Her account of how she waited in front of the ticker to see what draft number her then boyfriend and now husband would receive, showed how she wonders frequently what would have been of her, her husband, and her 3 children had the draft dice rolled a single digit number. This made me recall the stories of my newly married mom and dad when he was issued his draft numbers. If the numbers were different, my families entire history would have been erased or at best completely re-written.

Her thoughts lead me to the thoughts of those directly effected by war, mainly the citizens of the country where war is taking place. I can't help but think about how deeply I would wade through the what-ifs if I were a citizen of a war torn area. I would be plagued with fear, knowing that if I chose the wrong route to the market or chose the wrong market, my life could be completely altered or ended. Alternatively, if I lost a friend or family member, I would plague myself with questions of "what-if I had told him/her to not go that route?", or "what if I had told them to stay the night instead of trekking home at night?" (Having plagued myself with these very same questions after a bombing in Istanbul).

This past week, I would touch on these wartime thoughts quickly, but would quickly, and selfishly leave these deep and sad thoughts behind to think of more tangible and less depressing what-ifs. Granted, I acknowledge that what-ifs in their very nature tend to tip the balance more to the depressing/sad side of the scale than to the fun/humorous side. Perhaps it is because the what-ifs of my own life are a bit more manageable than those of entire nations. Departing from the depths of painful what-ifs, my what ifs tended to fall on the following topics (in no particular order):

WHAT IF...

1. I took that job offer at the orphanage in Romania in 2001?
2. I took the job in Afghanistan in Dec 2003? (ya, can you tell I'm unemployed right now?)
3. I had never gone to Turkey?
4. Keeley, Deb, Christian, Ahmet, Onur, David, Sara, Jeffrey, Craig, Seth, Chetin, John, Momma M, Esther, etc and I never met?
5. I was straight
6. I finally wrote that book
7. Someone paid off all my student loans?
8. I hadn't arranged to meet my friend's cousin in that square in Istanbul when that bomb happened to go off? What if I wasn't late? What if he had been late?
9. I took a chance and tried at to make at least one of my dream jobs happen now?
10. I hadn't left my bike out front for those 2 minutes when I ran inside?
11. I had a bag of gummy worms right now?

The list could go on for days, as the article made me wonder about many things in life, some based on things I could control, some not. Overall, I find wondering about the what-ifs amusing and entertaining and quite rudimentary compared to those who have to deal with the very heavy and pressing what-ifs of war-torn homelands.

In the end, after every "what-if" session of this past week, I've been pleased with where life has taken me, what has happened to me, the personality and genetics I was born with, and where I am now. Things can always be better or worse, but at the end of the day, I'm happier than I've ever been and love to take time to think of where I've been, good and bad, difficult and fun. All of them have molded and chiseled me into the amazing 6 pack, 200 lbs bench pressing, one handed push-ups and pull-ups stud I am today. ha ha.