THIRTY-ONE

When people talked about being born again, they talked about epiphany—or seeing the light. Faith came upon them instantaneously. That’s what Dave said I gave him.

A purpose.

A mission.

Hope.

When Dave made me face the truth, that didn’t happen. I never felt a purpose, not even close. Dave and Emma were a long way from convincing me that I could help others. But I did feel something. It wasn’t joy. It wasn’t peace. It wasn’t magic—it couldn’t be magic—but in a way, it was just as powerful. It was an image I’d carried for ten years. Ugliness and beauty, all at once.

You could call it love.

Or strength.

Or confidence.

Whatever it was, I was willing. I was willing to hear more. I wanted to look for more. I was willing to look at everything in a very different way. For the first time, I was willing to ask “What if?”

When I left Dave, I left with ideas.