Sometimes I wonder how different life would have been if –

• My mom had left my dad’s sorry ass, taking us, like my grandma told her to?

• My dad hadn’t cheated on my mom?

• My parents hadn’t split up?

• My mom had fought to keep me?

• Alice (the uber-stepmonster) wasn’t a deranged, psychotic, mean bitch?

• My dad stood up for himself more often?

• I’d married the first guy who asked?

• I’d married the only one who promised to take me away from the circus that was my dad and stepmonster?

• I’d spoken out against the violence and abuse of innocent children in my home?

• My siblings had kept in touch?

• I’d gotten that nursing degree?

• I’d returned to London after that Christmas in Maryland?

• I’d remained in London and tried to become a stronger, more decisive person?

• I was still in contact with my dad and forgave him?

• I’d held my mom’s choices against her and couldn’t forgive her?

• I didn’t let those criticisms get to me so much?

• I hadn’t said ‘never again’?

• I didn’t believe in the things I did?

• I didn’t love the people I did?

• I hadn’t move to Canada?

• I was the person I am today dealing with the same issues back them?

• I wasn’t getting a year older next week?

• I’d taken the risks, which I now regret not taking?

• I was never born, like the one who never was?

PLAYING: Daimonds in the back – Ludacris

READING: Dress Your Family in Denim and Corduroy – David Sedaris

WATCHING: The L Word

QUOTE: “I want a sunroof top…”

[Summer Reads]