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