What if…

from my past.

Many years ago, I was asked to go to Ottawa on business. A team member had to cancel at the last minute, and there was a non-refundable airline ticket going unused. I was delighted. I was still a junior in the office, so this felt like a bonus—and at that point in my relatively young life, I had never been to Ottawa. And just the week before, I’d heard about an art installation on display at the National Gallery that sounded incredibly intriguing. It all felt like a happy alignment.

The two questions I always ask myself are ‘What if’ and ‘Why not?’
                                                                          —Jennifer Nettles

The installation was a collection of chairs the artist had gathered from women she knew. Each chair was the woman’s favourite—the place where she always sat to savour her morning coffee or read the evening paper. Each woman had recorded a short biography, a slice of her life story, which played on a continuous loop from a tape player hidden beneath the seat. Headphones were draped over the arms of the chairs. The idea was that you’d sit in her chair, put on the headphones, and listen as she told her story.

It had lingered in my mind all week. Now, suddenly, I had a chance to see it for myself.

I checked all the details—gallery hours, my schedule, directions from the hotel. Everything lined up.

On the day, I finished my work in Ottawa and headed to the gallery in the late afternoon. When I arrived, I discovered they had switched to winter hours and were closing early. There were only forty minutes left. The clerk added that if I waited ten minutes, I could get in for free. Happy to save the money, I waited.

The ten minutes passed. I made a beeline for the installation—thinking I’d likely only have time to sit in one chair and listen to that one woman’s story. The setup, though, was impressive.

About twenty chairs—old-fashioned, vinyl-and-chrome kitchen chairs, big dumpy easies, chintz-covered wingbacks, pressed-wood, modern, antique—were all arranged in a wide circle. I paused for a moment, scanning the room.

One chair called to me immediately—but it was beside the only other visitor in the gallery, a man clearly lost in his own moment. I didn’t want to intrude. I chose a chair opposite him, sat down, and put on the headphones.

Out of those headphones came the voice of a remarkable woman I’d met a few years earlier while traveling. We had lost touch, but her voice and story were unmistakable.

I was stunned. A dozen little things—none of them guaranteed—had quietly lined up. A trip. A delay. A chair.

What if even one of them had gone another way?

Still gives me goosebumps.

An amazing coincidence, right? Or was it? What if I had not gone to Ottawa? What if I’d rushed in instead of waiting those ten minutes? What if…? Was this the chair I was meant to sit in?

Maybe life is just a little like that gallery—full of stories, each waiting for the right listener.

So what do you think? Coincidence… or connection? What’s your what if… story—the one you still marvel at? Share with us in the comments.