It’s always the most unlikely things that mentally kick you in the shins.
About five years ago, I wrote a story about a young lady I went to school with who I named “Hillary” for wanting not to give out her real name. Much like the political Hillary we all know about in the here and now, this Hillary always got into trouble, or found ways to get out of such trouble.
You’d think someone like the Hillary I knew would be on social media these days with a Twitter account, more likely one of a legion of people with Facebook accounts. In doing some elementary searching, I found out that Hillary is no longer with us – passing away sometime around 2000.
If that were the story in whole, I wouldn’t be mentioning it here. But one day after I returned to Florida from North Carolina in the summer 2000, I’m on a PSTA (the local bus transit company here in Pinellas County) bus for some reason. As fate would have it, Hillary got on – and there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s her. For some reason, I’m too shy to go and say hello – I bury my head in the St. Pete Times newspaper, figuring acknowledging her and vice versa would be too awkward,
And that would up being the last time I saw her. The moral of the story: make every second count – tomorrow is not guaranteed.