text: I sat on the platform, anxiously bouncing my leg. Mass transportation was never my thing, but now there was an added source of worry. Another doctor’s appointment, but this time it was in New York City. Although I had loved The City in my twenties, the excitement of my youth was since replaced with the awareness of a woman who’s experienced enough to know the risks. Okay, so I’m a worrier by nature, but life has given me a lot to worry about. Segue back to my appointment. I once read somewhere that the things we worry about are almost never the problems that come to pass. I have to agree with this theory; not that it’s stopped me from worrying just the same. I can think of a hundred reasons to fear illness or death, but somehow I managed to create a few that never made the list. Life is funny that way. You think you have control. That you can decide how your life will go, and who you’ll spend it with. But it’s only an illusion. In fact, while we futilely plan out our lives, our fates are being orchestrated for us. That’s not to say we don’t have any choices. We can certainly choose our jobs, decide where to live, and whether or not to shove another donut in our mouths. I’m talking about the stuff that will take us off track, and derail our lives in ways we couldn’t imagine. Losing the partner we planned on spending our future with, or the job we devoted our lives to, or full use of our bodies or our minds. Those are the things that fate controls, and fate can be a bitch. Luckily, though, sometimes she throws you a bone. So there I was, anxiously waiting for the train to arrive, when suddenly I felt that frightening but familiar rumble. Apparently my stomach was as nervous about my little trip as I was, but where to go? The tiny station house was locked, and there was not so much as a Porta-John in site. I clutched onto my bag and swiftly made my way across the street. It wasn’t ideal, but the CVS bathroom was going to have to do. After all, beggars can’t be choosers. I searched through the store until I found the magic door, and as I rushed to turn the knob I captured a glimpse of the “Employees Only” sign. I fumbled through the aisles; hoping to find someone to save me. Just as I turned past the magazines I came upon my hero. She chatted on about the weather as I held my breath and prayed, and finally I was behind the door. As I let out a sigh of relief and buttoned up my pants I suddenly felt the panic rise over me again. It was 11:01 and my train was due to depart at 11:05. I raced across the street, puffing and panting in stride as I watched as the train pulled away. At first I felt despair. I had hoped that this doctor would be different, and that this time things would get better. Now I would have to reschedule, and I had already waited 3 months to get this appointment. Plus, I didn’t have a ride to get home, so now I would have to call someone. Enter the dependable mom, who can always be counted on in times of crisis. Thankfully she was just checking out at the market, and she said she could come within the hour. As I crossed back to the drug store I could feel the anxiety leaving my body, and I knew it was trying to tell me something. Now, it’s true that at times we all have to risk discomfort in order to grow, but somehow I knew that there was more to this than that. I knew that I was not supposed to be on that train. But what now? I still had this rare illness, and all of the pain that went with it. I still had a part time job; struggling to work in my condition, and I still needed help from someone who cared and understood, but I didn’t know where to find it. I sat on the curb wiping my tears, when I caught the distant sound of my name being called. At first I thought I was just imagining it, but as the sound got closer I turned to see a friend. This was a very dear friend, but I hadn’t seen him in ages. As he sat down beside me I found myself unable to contain my words, and my worries came pouring from my mouth. He had always been so kind, and even though many years had passed I still found it easy to let the truth flow. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to me, and I pressed it against my new tears. Then I sniffled and smiled and told him I hoped that things were going much better in his life. He chuckled and said that they were, as he began to tell me of his success. Apparently after we lost touch he had opened a small business. It was a quaint country shop in New England. They sold pure maple syrup and honey, as well as tea and organic chocolates. Against all odds they had survived the pandemic, and become a great success through word of mouth. I congratulated him and shared that I had a passion for such items. For as long as I could remember I’d been enamored by tea leaves and nature’s sweet candy. Friends were struck with awe at my collection of beautiful loose teas, barrel aged maple syrup, and sweet, delicious honey. This store was my idea of heaven! He went on to describe the charming neighborhood and peaceful scenery, and my eyes glazed over as I imagined what it would be like to live in that world. Just as I was coming back to Earth he proposed an idea... “Why don’t you come and work for me?”, he asked. My heart began to race at the suggestion. “But where would I live?” I responded. “I don’t have any money to put down on a place”. Quickly my hopes began to dwindle, but once again his words eased my fears. “There’s a small room over the shop. We were using it to make gift baskets... something I was hoping you’d take on. If you don’t mind cozy spaces, you are welcome to it. There’s a place for you to work, and of course, you are welcome to help out in the store any time.” “What do you think?” I felt the old me creep up and try to stop me. It fed me a string of excuses; telling me all the reasons to stay put. “The devil you know”, it sneered. But I was not about to let this pass me by, so before it could speak another word I blurted out in exclamation, “Yes!”. It’s been two years since that lucky chance encounter, and the day I missed the train. The life that brought me tears and so much worry is now only a memory. Some days I still can’t believe how things worked out, but I know that I owe it to the train that put me back on the right track.