I always thought to be a part of a club, you had to be invited, and more importantly, accept the invitation. It turns out, I've been carrying around my membership card since the day I was conceived; unwittingly walking around with "secret club" status invisibly stamped on my forehead. My membership card has been in the works for decades--possibly even a century. It's not my invitees fault, not one of us had any inkling our fates would be so intertwined; perhaps the founding member and I have never even met. But, alas, here I am, in full club regalia. Sporting my invisible-to-the-naked-eye status tattooed on my heart. And, just as those who invited me into the club, I have invited someone, too. Did I mention I wish I would have gotten the invitation? I guess some RSVPs get lost in the mail.
May 23, 2012