Writing About the Almosts and What-Ifs

I was sick a lot as a little kid. I know the breastfeeding experts say that if a child is breastfed, s/he is less likely to get sick. I was definitely one of the exceptions because I remember being far sicker than my formula-fed siblings. I regularly had ear and tonsil infections, and I remember having both while I had chicken pox - three of the most excruciating weeks of my young life. I was in so much pain that when my mom made me my favorite - home made french fries - I couldn't even finish them because my ears popped painfully every time I swallowed, and my throat burned like a furnace.

Chaka Khan is one of my favorite singers. When I was little - maybe around 7 or 8 - my dad used to work at a place called Joe's House of Sandals located in a loft in lower Manhattan, I believe. He worked with a guy Chaka Khan was dating at the time, and I was invited to her son's birthday party through my dad's friendship with her boyfriend. I couldn't believe it . . . and I almost went to that party. But I didn't because I was sick the day of the party. Words can't capture the disappointment I felt that day.

Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like had I not been sick that day. What if I had been able to go to Damien's party? I didn't know Damien, and I doubt I would've known anyone else there, but I would have met Chaka Khan. That would have been so cool . . . or at least my imagination tells me so. Several years ago, I read Chaka Khan's autobiography, Chaka! Through the Fire, and I think the fact that I almost met her made me read the book a little more voraciously to see if, perhaps, there would be a mention of that party. There wasn't.

I'm not big on regrets. I believe that things happen the way they're meant to. It made me think, though, about some of the almosts in my life. Some are displeasing, like almost going to Damien's party, almost making my flight in Tyler, Texas that day, almost going to the prom with Axel Marrero, or being assigned to intern for Parents magazine instead of Essence. Some fill me with gratitude, like almost being hit by a car, almost being dropped off of the crown of the Statue of Liberty by my uncle, almost falling down a steep hill in Prospect Park in Brooklyn, almost passing out in a train station after donating blood, or almost not going to visit my friend in New Jersey the weekend I first met Dishon. Some just make me wonder, like what if I had moved in with my aunt so I could attend the gifted and talented junior high school I got into? What if I had taken the exams for Brooklyn Tech, Stuyvesant and Bronx Science? What if I hadn't skipped the eighth grade? What if I stayed in Boston University's Graduate Creative Writing Program instead of transferring to Boston College? What if I stayed in New York City instead of moving to Massachusetts?

The space that wondering about some of the almosts creates is a great space for novel writing.  Through writing, I get to explore what could have been . . . not from a place of regret, but from a place of creating the world where my characters live.

Do you ever wonder about some of your almosts or what-ifs?