Almost…

We stood on the outskirts of a great story.

Or so I thought.

A simple angle of the wall–one small step on the sidewalk–stood between us and our fifteen seconds of fame at the American Idol auditions last week.

Enforced by the presence of a security guard, we watched as all those who stood in line in front of us–chosen to participate in filming for the upcoming episodes–were led away to glory town.

“We almost had a story to tell.”  I thought as they filmed just beyond our reach.

“Look for us on American Idol.”  We could have said.  “We’re there.  In the cheering crowd.” We would have gushed.  “See right there?  That’s us!”

Though our backpack–positioned on the winner’s side–made the cut, he remained loyally by our sides as the simple angle of the wall, one small step on the sidewalk, robbed us of our story.

Or so I thought.

Until, struck with realization, I smiled. “But wait.  We do have a story.”  I said.

It’s not a story of fame and glory.  It’s a story of almost fame and glory. And almost stories can be great stories too.

I learned the power of almost stories at a family gathering in my early teen years when my Grandpa casually announced,

“I almost bought the land at the corner of Alma School and Southern once.”

Now, because the corner of Alma School and Southern was the most happening place in all of Mesa, Arizona at the time of this gathering, my Grandpa’s announcement caused an eruption that filled the room with an energy so electrifying that the memory of it makes my spine tickle even now.

Gasps, groans and hollers of disbelief followed by the most delicious side splitting laughter burst through the air as we all reflected on the knowledge that we had almost been a very wealthy family.

I loved that almost story moment and I wouldn’t trade it or any of the priceless moments spent in my Grandpa’s humble home for all the wealth in the world.

And though a story of American Idol fame would be a fun one to tell, an almost story made while spending the day with my girls is good enough for me.

I might even tell my grandchildren about it, at a future gathering of our own.