If I could speak to my soul—if she were my twin sister—I would tell her stories of what ifs.

What if I had taken that road? What if I had bought that house by the river? What if I had taken a helicopter ride? What if I had taken that job? What if I had moved to Milan? What if I had not gotten married? What if I had not gone to the beach? What if I had written a play? What if I could read the footprint? What if I had changed lanes? What if I had driven a Mercedes? What if I had written a story? What if I had brought more joy? What if I had sung that song? What if I had stayed single? What if I had written a cookbook? What if I had gone to the movies? What if I had learned to dance tango? What if I had taken that trip? What if I had said yes when I said no? What if I had said no when I said yes? What if had learned how to play the guitar? What if I had started earlier? What if I had waited longer? What if I had followed my fear? What if I had followed my courage? What if I had learned German? What if I had planted a garden? What if I had bought that little café? What if I had called back? What if I had written more letters? What if I had forgiven sooner? What if I laughed less? What if I had loved louder? What if I had listened more? What if I had taken the long way home? What if I had watched more sunsets? What if I had danced when the music played?

Life can feel like a slew of “what if” buttons popping out of a refrigerator door, as if you could press one and see where it might lead. I don’t know where they would have taken me. But I do know that this is the path I have taken, and here I am.

Perhaps it isn’t the chimney I once dreamed of standing beneath, but it is the pot God intended for me to cook in—the perfect recipe, made with all the sauces and ingredients of my life.