I really suck with names. I remember intimate details about a person: favorite color, personal history, marital status, and other details most people forget. I don’t know her name, but she changed my life.

We met a Starbucks in the latter part of 2019 over a casual while waiting for lattes. Our subsequent encounter was with TJ Max, my favorite spot for discounted skincare and scented candles. A few weeks later, I walked into SB for yet another study session and found “her” settled into a seat in my favorite sun-drenched corner, between the “pick up” corner and the door.

She was a military wife for almost 20 years. She had three children with her husband, lived worldwide, and now rents a home in the local area. She knew I was a woman of similar age, an NYC native, a former expatriate who had never married, and a full-time student with no children. She sat comfortably with her sandaled feet crossed over the store ottoman while knitting what would be a brightly colored hat; I settled into a chair in the same corner.

After a few inquiries about single life: “I retired from dating years ago.” She asked about my plans once my degree was complete. “I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m getting closer,” I replied with enthusiasm.

 “How are you?” I asked, and the whole conversation turned. She just learned that she needed a heart transplant. She was a few years younger than me, with glowing skin, thick dark wavy hair, expertly coiffed into a sleek pixie cut. Her frame was petite and thick yet shapely. She appeared the picture of health and vitality.

She explained that her marriage of eighteen years had been strained by emotional distance and infidelity on both sides. Her children, who once filled the void of affection, were now teenagers looking for independence. There was a time when family and marital security were enough. She was hungry for a new life, feeling crippled by a failing heart and security benefits.

 “I look at you and wonder if I am capable of being independent, but it terrifies me because I have no place to go if I fail,” wiping her eyes in an attempt to control the tears that began to cascade down her plump cheeks. “You travel, you’re in school, you answer to no one!” “I have no one to fall back on.” I doubt myself every day, but the only option is to push thru. My desire to be married was instantly replaced by a profound sense of gratitude for the uphill battle that built my resilience.

 “What would you want for yourself if you were in perfect health”? Let’s starve the disease by looking beyond. I cautioned her against over glamorizing “the life of a single woman.” If your goal is to replace your husband, you will likely be disappointed. 

I explained that she could use her spouse’s veteran benefits to earn a degree. You could make your associate’s degree by your 20^th anniversary and reassess your situation. “I don’t even know what I want to study,” she cried. Do you cook for your family? I asked. “The culinary classes are fun,” and the classwork doubles as family dinner. Look at the time and resources at your disposal and leave the rest to God. None knows when our time is up, we’re all just making the best of what we have. 

I never saw her again. I never saw myself the same way again.

We recognize our potential by helping others realize theirs.