Look

I guess you're either headed somewhere or ending up somewhere.  --We are Augustines

I came fully awake around eleven a.m. today.  That didn' bode well, I'm sure for whatever it was I stumbled out of bed to write at 5:01, nor did it help me in my efforts to put the children on the bus.  I drove to work wondering if they were adequately dressed, brushed and lunched, going over the mental checklists much too late, and nodded during the morning meeting.  If not for a few colorful and lively coworkers I surely would have snoozed.  I sat next to a new favorite nurse who vacillates between looking either worried or terrified, or perhaps it's just the combination of shock and dismay at the tragedy of how some folks really and truly live either by choice or circumstance.

I drove by the prison, which is situated on one of the most beautiful (and would be expensive were it not for the outlaws) parcels of land in the county.  I was on my way to see a blind woman, belting out this song, thankful for a job that has me outside so much of the time and of course for the ability to see.  My under-caffeinated and mellow self must have been contagious as I saw her nearly nod off right in front of me toward the end of my visit.  I watched my step on the way out and hoped not to fall through the soft kitchen floor.

The shelter of the hospital and our homes protects us from seeing what there is to see, from being where we need to be, from feeling uncomfortable.  I pause then to wonder if I'm going somewhere, merely ending up there, or just along for the ride, blindly following my GPS.