It was the day I hugged Rebekah at the end of the Boardwalk, in front of everybody there, just before we parted. That was the day - the day it all changed.
What was 'it'? Ah, that ambiguous term. It. In this case, it=everything.
It was not the parting that chantged me. I would see her again in an hour or so, when I returned from the swimming pool. It would be a furtive, snatched five minutes before I went to have a shower and she went out to the gig she planned to attend, but I would see her nonetheless.
Swimming lost all its fun that night. Perhaps the admission of how much I needed that hug was the final straw, but this camel's back was almost broken anyway. Because this was the day that it all changed. And it was everything. It was my whole life, my whole persepective.
It started with Bekah. It always starts with Bekah. Her full name is Rebekah; she's a close friend of mine. I've known her since I was one year old, and I tell her my secrets. Not all of them, but most of them. She tells me hers - mostly. I was about to discover, on this day, that she'd kept a few from me.
So here I am, with Bekah, and we're at our youth group. I should perhaps have explained to readers that we were on a Christian holiday at the time. And here we are at our youth group ... and we start to pray.