A Chance Encounter on Waikiki Beach

Life has a funny way of working things out. I believe that’s an Alanis Morrissette lyric, but it certainly rings true in this little story. You see, for more than ten years I lived with this awful sense of remorse and regret. A sense of embarrassment and seemingly no way to rectify a bad situation. Let me back it up to 2002.

At 17 years old, I graduated high school one semester early so that I could move away and become a working student for an event rider I looked up to (her name was Michelle). I packed my white, chevy truck with all of my necessary belongings and made the 7 hour drive south to my new residence and place of employment. It was such an exciting time. My life-long passion for horses had led me to this dream opportunity. I was going to get to learn from an amazing rider, exercise her horses, and in 8 weeks time we would be on our way to sunny California! I wasn’t able to bring my own horse with me when I first drove down by myself, so plans had been made for him to be hauled down to me after a month or so. 

Although after the first couple of weeks I was feeling a little homesick, which I hadn’t predicted, I was learning a lot and really enjoying my time on her farm. Michelle and her boyfriend were incredibly welcoming and I loved our time hacking down the road, conditioning horses, and working side-by-side. I couldn’t wait for my own horse to arrive! 

As the weeks went by, I started missing my boyfriend at home more. I know. I know. Insert eye roll. Anyways, it seemed like everyone back home was having a blast and I started feeling like I was missing out. They were planning our high school graduation, hitting up all the parties, and I was 7 hours away, waking up at 5am to muck stalls and feed horses. The glamorous working student life was feeling a little less glamorous as the days passed on, and my FOMO was out of control. So, when my boyfriend drove down to visit me (about 4 weeks after my initial move), I abruptly (and stupidly) packed all of my bags, and made the knee-jerk decision to move home. I don’t remember the details of my conversation with Michelle or how exactly she responded; I just remember us both crying, and me getting in my truck and driving away.

Less than a week after returning home, that same boyfriend I had just followed 7 hours back up north, broke up with me. It was the most earth-shattering, heartbreaking pain I had ever felt in my life to that point. In fact, it still ranks pretty high. I ended up getting a job at the local car wash, enrolling in college for the fall semester, and partying all my heartache away (or at least pushing it really deep down inside). Worst of all? I stopped riding. Over the course of the next year, I made poor relationship choices and gained a ton of weight. Equestrian endeavors weren’t a priority and I rarely even visited my horse, who now lived the pasture life at my parents’ house. In the blink of an eye, what was once my lifelong passion and dream for the future no longer had a place in this new reality.

Life goes on. I met my (now) husband, we bought a little house, and I finished my Bachelor of Education degree (barely). Periodically, I would think about Michelle and wonder if she was upset with me for leaving so abruptly and for not seeing through my commitment to her. After a couple of years I tried reaching out to her, with no luck. Honestly, it was like she had disappeared. Then a few more years went by, and I reached out to a mutual equestrian friend who shared with me that Michelle had moved to Ontario and joined the RCMP. Due to her being RCMP, it made her virtually impossible to find and contact. I continued to live with the guilt of moving home and the regret of quitting riding entirely. I would share the first part of this story with my junior high students each year, as a lesson in not making decisions for someone else, but instead making them based on what’s best for you and your life. 

Fast forward to 2014, on a family holiday in Hawaii with my parents, my husband, and two small children. One morning my mom and I were walking the beach boardwalk when I saw a tall, beautiful blonde woman, noting that she looked kind of like Michelle. In a sudden, split-second decision, I blurted out, “Michelle?”  To my shock, the woman stopped and turned to look at me. There on Waikiki beach, ten plus years later, I was finally able to apologize. I was able to share my remorse. My embarrassment. That I was so stupid to move home for a boy. Her reply was that she thought I left because of tension between her and her boyfriend (now husband). Which wasn’t true at all! She shared that she never went to California that year and instead, moved to Ottawa to support her boyfriend who had been accepted into the RCMP Musical Ride. 

We spent the next two weeks hanging out every day. Our families were instantly friends. She also had a son, the exact same age as my oldest, and they played in the ocean together while we caught up on everything.  It was the most wonderful, surreal, fateful event. After that chance encounter, we shared contact information and have been able to stay in touch. Since then, I have started riding again, and this summer Michelle even came to watch me compete when I was at a venue outside of Calgary, near where she now lives. I still have regret for leaving that working student position the way I did, but my heart is now at peace with the situation. You see, “life has a funny way of working things out”.