Friday, October 5, 2012

The Right Direction

I shake snow off my shoes and lean in, shoulder first, to open the frosty glass door, in search of (of all things) a bathing suit that I'm not certain I'll even have need for.

It's February in Bend as I distractedly push through an entire store with racks full of barely-there clothing.  It's no surprise to me that my mind is running track around things with limited probability.

I'm leaving in two weeks.

At least I am suppose to be.

I allow my layers to bury hope, and I escape to the back room where doubt is at a discount.

I talk to God.

What am I doing? This is insane.

I have applied to do volunteer work in Mexico City for six months and I don't have enough money for my trip, yet it feels wrong to stop stepping forward.

I'm not comfortable with this juxtaposition.

I'm living my life as though I am going, until something tells me indisputably, that I am not, but in certain moments it feels like my best game of make-believe ever.

Do you really want me to do this? Do you even want me to go to Mexico?

I don't find what I am looking for in the back, either.

I am close to being sensible--just calling off the pursuit of improbable things.

Would you just give me something so that I know that I am walking in the right direction?

I return to the front room, where He does.

It surprises me and the music there reminds me of laughter.

I can't help it, I giggle out loud;  an inside joke between friends who can practically read each other's thoughts.

'Oh, Mexico

I never really been but I'd sure like to go

Oh, Mexico

I guess I'll have to go now…'

It does not answer the how-of-things but it is enough for me in that moment.

The bells on the door thank me for coming and I step more strongly back out into the far-fetched.




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