Our Sister Ships

A weird moment I had a while ago happened when I went to lunch with my mother. My mother's not weird - not in any remarkable way at least. The restaurant wasn't weird.

I just live several hundred miles away from my mother.

Any time I see her, it's for a family vacation or a wedding. We're usually bunched up with the rest of the family. I never just "go to lunch" with my mom anymore.

It was weird. And it was really nice.

Sometimes, I find myself envisioning these "other lives." You know the feeling - what if I hadn't moved several hundred miles away? It's not exactly regret. It's just curiosity about what would have happened

An article that summarized this beautifully is the Ghost Ship that Didn't Carry Us. No, it's not a wicked awesome alt universe to the Rime of the Ancient Mariner. One line in particular reached from the page:

I’ll never know and neither will you of the life you don’t choose. We’ll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn’t carry us. There’s nothing to do but salute it from the shore.

Important. Beautiful. But not ours.

I love the idea of the universe flooded with dozens of other me's. The me who left home for a high pressure job probably stares wonderingingly at the me who stayed home for a steady job. A whole 'nother me waves from California. Another from Seattle. Maybe one is a writer, maybe one works for the government.

I do know one thing, clear and uniequivicol:

All my sister ships are pirate ships.

Represent, sister ship.