What If...

A very wise person put something into perspective for me recently. They said that sometimes we have to be able to say:

"I made the best choices I could with who I was then… and still, life could have unfolded differently and been okay too.”

And that is just such a powerful statement.

I think we’re often conditioned to believe that when people or situations leave our lives, it’s because them staying would have made everything harder - or worse. And sure, that’s probably true for some of the people we cross paths with. But also… sometimes it’s not.

When we think back on the relationships and friendships that have parted ways, isn’t it kind of wild to consider that even if we had continued down that road, the future still might have been okay? Not some dramatic downfall. Not ruin. Just… different. And still good.

That idea doesn’t invalidate the life or family you love now. If anything, it deepens it. It reminds us that life isn’t a single “right path,” but a series of meaningful ones that branch and diverge.

As I’ve looked back at the people who’ve come in and out of my life, I’m reminded of the good things I still miss about them. And I think it’s very telling when you can look back without bitterness - only curiosity and tenderness. You’re not wishing to undo anything; you’re simply acknowledging that people are more complex than the versions of them we knew at the time.

That realization has applied not only to others, but to myself as well. The person I knew at 15 or 20 or 25 is not the same person they are today. We grow. We change. We shift.

And for those whose paths have split from mine… what a privilege it was to know them, for whatever time we shared or whatever lesson they taught me.

It’s kind of a trip to run into people years later and think, wow, all their good qualities are just amplified now. That’s happened to me a few times recently (and I’ll share those stories in upcoming blog posts), particularly with old relationships. I can remember moments when things felt explosive - when I thought, this is the worst person!

And yet, here they are now: thoughtful, grounded, genuinely good people.

Maybe it’s not even that they grew into someone better. Maybe they always were that person - and we just couldn’t see it then. Maybe outside factors skewed our view. Maybe we were young or immature. Maybe our feelings got hurt, and that pain shaded everything we thought we knew about them.

I love those old rom-coms where someone gets transported into an alternate timeline - one where they chose a different fork in the road and stayed with an old love - only to realize what a terrible mistake that would have been.

But what if we live in a reality where not everyone we parted from was a villain?

What if sometimes it was just two good people, destined for different futures - and even if they hadn’t parted, life still would have been… good?

Now that feels like the start of a romance novel.

But it does raise a bit of a conundrum, doesn’t it? I suppose it depends on what kind of romance author - or romantic - you are.

If we could have ended up with someone else and still been okay… does that mean there’s no such thing as one true love? And isn’t that the question at the heart of every romance story? Soulmates. Fate. The idea that there is one person, singular and irreplaceable. The basic theory around all of Dawson's Creek (sorry, had to bring it back, lol).

I spent much of my teenage years believing everyone had one true soulmate. That belief has softened over time. I think our hearts are capable of loving many people over the course of a lifetime - deeply, sincerely, and in different ways.

So does that mean the person we end up with isn’t a “true love,” but simply one of many? Does it lessen the weight of the love we give them?

Or does it mean something else entirely?

What does that say about our hearts?

Are we guilty if we still carry love for someone from our past? Do we shove it down, pretend it never existed, rewrite the story so it feels safer? Or is it okay to let that love remain - quiet, undisturbed - a soft reminder of what we’re capable of?

Does holding that love make us a bad partner? Or does it make us a better one - more compassionate, more aware, more grateful for the love we choose and nurture now?

Are all of these loves what make up the bouquet of our lives - each one different, colorful, and unique - together forming something wholly beautiful?

Maybe our hearts aren’t meant to be emptied between chapters. Maybe they’re meant to hold memory and meaning alongside devotion. Maybe love doesn’t compete with itself - it expands.

And maybe that doesn’t make love any less true at all.