The Way Our Worlds Collided

(1) before

"She's the exclamation mark 

in the happiest sentence 

that I could ever possibly write."

- Michael Faudet

When I was young, my older sisters always called me a "troublemaker". But I beg to differ. I didn't necessarily break every rule, challenge authority, or do severe mischief that could kick me out of school or attend counseling sessions. Most of the troubles I brought sprout from my carelessness, which still proved troublesome on certain levels.

Like for instance, I had a knack for stepping on the back of the shoe of the person in front of me and making them trip. I broke approximately twelve drinking glasses in the house every year (and I didn't really mean it, I swear!) I bumped into people and shopping carts, earning profanities and bruises on my arms and hips. I cracked jokes that I didn't know were offensive and I would gain a slap from a girl (Sunshine Lee, seventh grade) or send one crying back to her friends (Whoever That Was, fifth grade).

And I lost a lot of things, too—most of them were easy to be replaced and some have been difficult to regain lately. (Like my heart. But I'm getting quite ahead of myself.)

So, no, I'd never been exactly a troublemaker. A walking disaster, perhaps. "Be careful!" was the sentence I always heard from my mom.

Most of my mishaps led me to different situations that I really didn't mind much. I was a kid, and at the time, I thought they were just inconsequential things. However, a certain little accident proved me wrong, and I would soon discover that it was actually a puzzle piece to a story I could never have dreamed.

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If anyone would ask me what I remember the most from my elementary school, I would say we had a teacher whose last name was Greasley back in the third grade.