If

I recently re-read a recounting of my husband's car accident. Unlike last time, I didn't cry out with tears of rage, nor were the pangs of misplaced guilt as severe.

How can such little things have the power to change so much? A split second of time. A scoche of an inch. A two-letter word. If.

How can such a little word bring so much sorrow and pain, yet also so much hope and joy?
It partners with our choices and possibilities, and stays with us after the pieces fall.
It is what allows us, with time, to appreciate good fortune, heal from our wounds, and gain wisdom.

Before we were married, I asked him whether he would change anything in his past if he had the ability. I was upset when he said "not one thing", but eventually realized he had the wisdom to understand how such a little thing would change so much; and what would happen if he did go back and change one little thing?