This morning when I drove out of the neighborhood on my way to work, I was acutely aware of the fact that my life is going to drastically change in 9 days. I’ve been counting down. I’m now into the single digits. I hit shuffle on my music play list and tried to warm my fingers. It’s January. It’s cold.
It has been difficult to get here. And it’s really, really scary. I’ve been on this same path a long time and sometimes I worry that it’s too late to change, or I’m too old, or it’ll never work. Some people never think to deviate from this path. Other people never even consider living the kind of life I have up till now. Which is right, which is better? Not for me to say. I only know how I want this to go for myself.
So – scary, difficult – and utterly exhilarating. What’s next? I have some good solid leads on being able to answer that. And I know what I want to happen next. But in a way – I have no idea what comes next. And guess what? I’m OK with that.
As I continued to drive down the road, a really lovely, haunting, perfect song started to play. “Quiet” by Bruce Hughes (by the way, happy belated birthday, Bruce). The echoey acoustic guitar and faraway melody was the perfect accompaniment to the cold, the morning light, the movement of the car. I looked up and saw a long line of Canadian Geese overhead, and for several seconds, each and every one of them was floating on the breeze – not a single one flapped their wings. They moved as one whole solid unit, sailing through the air to the music. It was one of those Perfect Driving Moments, that I always cherish… thank you, Universe…
Then suddenly the song “skipped” and ended, and another one began. This kind of thing isn’t supposed to happen with all this high tech stuff! But it did. 2 geese flapped their wings. The moment was gone.
I guess you never know how things will go. And Perfect Moments are, well, just moments.