I found a sun drenched pond yesterday.
Dragon flies zipped across the surface and aquatic bugs were scampering about beneath the skin of the water. It was swollen due to recent thunderstorms. Toads were calling out as I approached the pond, but stopped once I reached the edge.
It made me feel like a gigantic monster. I was the T-Rex in Jurassic Park, barreling towards the humans and crushing things on my way. The toads were the humans, frozen, hoping that I wouldn’t see them if they only could turn into mannequins. Silly toads. It was a stare down. I scanned the pond for their little eyes.
I found one sitting on a log in the middle of the water.
By the way, there is a compulsion reason for each toothpaste and toothbrush. That’s a whole other riviting entry.
I returned from the pond yesterday and watched the Yankees play the Red Sox. I ate a good lunch and rested. It occured to me that I felt good — I felt normal.
“Normal” as in the way my spirit felt before the autumn of 1998. I felt at peace, I felt forgiven, I felt content. I felt like me. It snuck up on me.
Ten years is a long time to be aggitated. Ten years is a long time to sit motionless on a log, hoping that nothing would change if only I didn’t move.
The bizarre thing about the last ten years is that there was no one waiting to kill me along the edge of the pond. It’s why my friends and family teased me and often times left conversations with me wagging their heads in frustration. I understood that I was being ridiculous, but hung on to my log. Cowardly-Lion-Kari liked her log.
So today is a new day and I have the opportunity to let go again. I liked me yesterday.