In the last couple days, a blast from the dramatic past and I came into fairly close contact in yet a very distant manner. I realize how frustratingly vague that sounds, and I don’t care much to expand. 

But what I am interested in is not that I avoided encountering the drama head-on, but what lead me to avoid any direct contact with the drama.

I was debating how to react to this potentially dramatic and unnecessary situation.  The rational voice employed by my brain explained its token reasons for not getting involved, while that little curious, mischievous piece of me was still present in the background chiming in. It was like thought bubbles were being sponsored by the little angel and devil who reside on my shoulders. 

But the thought bubble that closed the issue with a very sharp *thud* of finality was sponsored by neither angel nor devil. It was sponsored by the little future-baby that currently resides in my body and currently stands (floats?) for much of how I’ve been making decisions lately.

As soon as the words ‘my baby’ showed up in my drama radar, it was case closed. The past is the past, memory is only as important as you make it, and I’m about to enter a new world, a new start, the ultimate Yom Kippur, by bringing a kid into the world.