"Terror of the Unforeseen"

Lately, I've been reading The Plot Against America, a novel by Pulitzer laureate Philip Roth.  About a week ago, I ran across a passage that I revisited today, and which I am going to share with you now.

...the unfolding of the unforeseen was everything.  Turned wrong way round, the relentless unforeseen was what we schoolchildren studied as "History," harmless history, where everything unexpected in its own time is chronicled on the page as inevitable.  The terror of the unforeseen is what the science of history hides, turning a disaster into an epic.

This was one of those rare and wondrous passages that made me stop, close the book for a moment, and reflect.  Something I'd not done since early 2004 (I think).

We can look back on history and say, "Of course, this was inevitable."  And why wouldn't we?  The power of hindsight is in telling us that everything that happens was bound to happen the way it did, and there's no other way it could have happened, ad nauseum.  Let's take the American Civil War, for example.  It was, I think we'll agree, fairly inevitable, as was the South's defeat.  Imagine, however, living in that time, and not knowing how it would turn out.  Imagine that.   Your nation is at war with itself.  You, or your sons, or your brothers, or your husband/fiancé/gentleman caller is out there fighting in this war, and you don't know if he will come back, or if any of the boys will come back.  You don't know whether your army is going to win or lose.  Will the enemy troops be marching past your door tomorrow?  Will your be able to watch the next battle from your bedroom window?  Or will it all happen somewhere else instead, and feel like a bad dream until it's all over.  You don't know.  You have no way of knowing.  But don't worry - in a couple generations, all these answers will be obvious.

I just had a conversation with my boyfriend.  I've mentioned before that there is a complication with our relationship.  Well, it seems that complication is about to reach its breaking point, and the boif is terrified.  I have done, and will continue to do, my best to comfort him and support him and help him and love him throughout this, as long as he will let me.  There will be ugliness.  I have told him that we will get through it together, and we will make it work.  But there's a lot of unforeseen, more for him than for me, and it's terrifying.  And yet, in a couple years' time, it's likely that we will look back upon this time, and say, "It was inevitable."

I can also say that, based on the conversation, it looks quite likely that I'll be filling out a Change of Address form shortly after my current lease expires.  I hope we stay in Edgewater, close to the lake and close to our churches (we'll be a bi-denominational household for a while at least).