Monday, July 29, 2013


Things were going pretty well until my ear started to ache.

I was working out in the corporate housing gym, cooking eggs on the corporate housing stove, swiping my shiny new ID badge to open doors that would otherwise be locked.

I was wearing my new dresses and walking my new route on my new street with new buildings that I had not seen before. I was buying a new type of salad greens and trying out a different face soap.

I was watching ABC and CBS and NBC but they were different than the ABC and CBS and NBC that I knew before. The newscasters were different (and maybe older?) and the weather graphics were not the same as the ones I knew before.

I was going to new meetings and making new presentations and getting myself acquainted with new machines. I was using new pens and trying out new notebooks and asking for desk lamps to make my new desk light up so that I could see.

I was dreaming new dreams and thinking new things and finding myself exploring my world once again. I was feeling alive and full of new chances and wondering what my future had in store.

But then one night, when I was swimming in the corporate housing pool, my ear began to ache.

I looked up at the tall buildings around me and thought a practical thought, "I think I will go to CVS." So that was what I did. I went to CVS, I bought some ear drops. The next day, my ear hurt more, so I went to a Minute Clinic where I got some more drops.

When the weekend came, my ear was even worse, so I went back to the Minute Clinic where I got some antibiotics and the nice nurse practitioner lady said, "Now next time, if your ear does not get better, you will need to go see your regular doctor instead of us."

But that was when I realized something...I no longer had "my regular doctor."

That was when I realized I no longer had my Urgent Care or my 24 Hour Walgreens with the weird yet friendly pharmacists who gave me my pills at midnight.

I no longer had my mom's house to which I could flee at a moment's notice.
I no longer had two cats or a car or a condo or a boyfriend.
I no longer had a course to follow or an agenda to cover or a plan of action to take.

All of the things I once had were now gone and all of it was over. All of it was now toast. Is this a good thing? Is this a bad thing? They say forest fires bring new growth.

But on a night like tonight when my ear just hurts and there is nothing in front of me except a canvas that is blank, I do not want my past to be toast. I want it to be right here. To take me to the doctor. To tuck me into bed. To take me to a movie. To want me to come back.

I want the past to claim me back. But it can't. I am stuck right here in the present.

There is only moving forward.
There is only buying new bread.
The piece of toast that I used for this blog picture was the last one left in the loaf.

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