Pool Cues to Coffee Mugs

When I first moved back to the Clare area in my early twenties, I did what any newcomer would do. I asked around.

"Where does everyone go?"

"What does everyone do for fun?"

My neighbor didn't hesitate.

"Everyone goes to The Hilltop."

I remember laughing because when I left Clare as a teenager, The Hilltop was where my Dad and all his buddies hung out. My Dad had even played ball for The Hilltop. The idea that it was now my social scene felt a little strange.

But off I went.

One weekend while I was there with friends, a guy asked me out. I was single. He seemed normal enough. We agreed to meet the following weekend at The Hilltop and play a few games of pool.

Looking back, those may have been the last normal words spoken between him and I.

I arrived before he did and was chatting with people when he walked in. He came straight over to me and said, "Hey, my crazy ex followed me here. Let me get rid of her and then we'll get to know each other and play some pool."

That seemed odd, but I was young and willing to give people the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay," I said.

So I wandered off and visited with other people around the bar.

Now, I should probably mention that I was a feisty little Irish girl back then.

After watching this situation unfold for a bit, I decided to stir the pot.

I sent him a drink.

She sent it back.

I sent him another.

She sent that one back too.

At some point, the two of us ended up occupying the same patch of floor, and before anyone could say, "This seems like a bad idea," a fight broke out.

The details are mostly a blur now.

I distinctly remember friends Arch and Pauly deciding they'd had enough. One of them threw one of us over a shoulder. The other grabbed the other one. Before long, we both found ourselves deposited in the parking lot where the fight continued for a little while longer.

I remember a lot of swearing.

I remember dirt.

I remember scraped knees.

I remember arms and legs flying in every direction.

Eventually, we hurled a few final expletives at each other and went our separate ways.

Case closed.

Or so I thought.

The next day, I looked out my window and saw a little Cavalier pull into my driveway.

Out stepped the "crazy ex."

Well, I marched outside fully prepared to continue where we had left off.

Instead, she looked at me and said, "Hey. Can we talk?"

That wasn't exactly what I was expecting but, we talked.

And somewhere during that conversation, we discovered the truth.

She wasn't his ex-girlfriend at all.

She was his current girlfriend.

The guy who had introduced us to each other through a bar fight had apparently been trying to date both of us at the same time.

After comparing notes and realizing neither of us had been given the full story, we decided there was one more conversation that needed to happen.

Together, we drove to his job site.

He was working on a roof.

We politely invited him to come down and speak with us.

He declined.

Smart man.

Neither of us dated him again.

But something unexpected happened.

She stayed.

Looking back, it's funny how often we think we know why people enter our lives.

I thought I was showing up at The Hilltop to meet a guy.

Instead, I met a woman who would become one of the most important people in my life.

Nearly thirty years later, neither of us remembers much about the pool game that never happened. The guy is long gone from the story. But Trisha remains.

We've weathered marriages, children, heartbreaks, celebrations, and all the ordinary moments in between. We've laughed until we cried and cried until we laughed.

Somewhere along the way, a woman I once rolled around a dirt parking lot fighting became family.

Sometimes God sends you exactly who you need.

Sometimes He just has a really strange sense of humor about the introduction.