Be Who God Meant You To Be

When Meg got back from the hospital on Saturday evening, she found her suitcase sitting at the foot of her bed in the hotel room.

It was almost surreal to open it, to find all her things still neatly folded and arranged just so, from when she packed it in what now feels like a previous lifetime. She half-expects things to be jumbled, since the suitcase went through the same car crash she did.

It's oddly comforting to find that it looks just as it did when Alain put it in the trunk of his car in her parents' driveway. And there is something reassuring about having her own clothes back. It feels slightly more normal.

Sunday morning, she picks a green dress and a white sweater, leaves off the sling, and goes down to the breakfast in the hotel's lobby early, feeling more like herself than she has in about three days.

The day after she met Dave Martyniuk, Meg sits staring at the single sheet of pale blue stationary on her desk.

What is she supposed to write? It was nice to meet you? That's not exactly going to ring true, in light of the way the meeting went.

After several more minutes, Meg picks up her pen and writes:

Dave,

I'm glad that we finally had an opportunity to meet. I hope we'll get to talk again soon, and I hope things are going well for you.

Sincerely,
Meg

She hesitates for a moment, and then adds her address under her name.

After another -- and longer -- moment, she writes her phone number, too.

And then folds the paper in thirds without rereading it, seals it in an envelope, and drops it in the mail before she can think herself out of it.