I drove to Denton, Texas, today...then turned around and drove home. Why? Because it was in Denton that I realized (thanks to a Tweet and a follow-up from a friend): I am not required in Dallas until next Tuesday.
How disorganized a life does one have to lead before they find themselves two hours from home and realize, Oh! My appointment is on the 29th, not the 22nd!???
I felt foolish. In fact, I cried. But only because I'd already been crying: all the way to Texas.
Why? I'd been thinking about some things that a trusted friend recently encouraged me to write about. Well, I haven't had time to sit and write about these things (or am I just putting it off?), so since I had three hours in the car alone...what a perfect time to think about the things I am supposed to write about! Same thing, right? And the thinking, coupled with listening to a CD I used to listen to in high school, drew tears.
Good tears. Melancholy. Realization. Breakthrough! (all but that last one)
I think I was due a good cry. I haven't cried in a while. It reminded me of when I was pregnant and such a blubberbutt. Poor Collin. I hope next time I'm pregant my hormones treat us both a little better. But I digress.
I would write more about what I was crying about, but who wants to read that? Instead, I will recount a story (that has nothing to do with today)...
There once was a girl named Meggo who didn't know how to tell whether her dreams were real life things that had happened or just dreams, and so one night when she had a dream that her grandparents took her to an outdoor circus that provided all-you-can-eat fried shrimp, which she had never eaten before, and this other little girl, who was also with Meggo's grandparents, ate all the shrimp so that Meggo could have none, Meggo wondered whether this other little girl indeed existed and was a friend of the family.
"Don't you remember?" Meggo asked her Grammie. "The little girl with the short brown hair?"
Of course Grammie didn't remember. Because the little girl with the short brown hair only existed in dreamland, as did the all-you-can-eat shrimp circus. Though that is a tasty idea.
::shudder::
1 comment:
Tears are good. Tears are a way your soul takes a shower (cleansing to the soul that is).
I always feel safe in the car to cry. Though I've yet to figure out why a place with windows to all the people around me in traffic feels safer than my own home- but crying in the car just comes easier.
Sorry that you drove two hours unnecessarily. But instead of looking at the experience as a result of disorganization, instead, I'd encourage you to look at this as a sweet gift God gave you- two hours in the car to think and process and cry. How often does a young working mother get 2 hours all at once to stop and think.
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