January 7, 2012 § Leave a comment

Day Seven.

There are very few times in my life when I am honestly aware of the feeling that I am in just the right place at just the right time. However, this afternoon as I sat on a stiff backed, army-green couch, my feet not even able to reach the showroom floor, I knew I was exactly where I should be. The snow fell gently from the grey sky as my mother and I hopped from one furniture store to another. We laughed as we tried to get comfortable in pieces of furniture stiff as boards; I took brief breaks by trying out luxurious mattresses. At the end of our shopping we discussed my new and strange desire to be a furniture saleswoman then headed to the local donut shop for mugs of coffee and our daily dose of sugar. Despite the randomness of it all, it felt normal.

While my belongings sit in a Chicago storage unit awaiting my return I help my mom browse for a sleeper sofa. Daily someone asks me what my plan is; but in all honesty, today the only “plan” I came up with was to become a saleswoman. Shouldn’t I be worrying about what’s next? Where is that pressure to figure it all out?

I like to think that maybe I have grown to the point of not needing to have things all figured out. It would be great if I could know that I, not even at the age of 30, have mastered the art of throwing caution to the wind. But that is highly unlikely. As I sit here now, comfy near my parents’ roaring woodstove, the television on, and my mind completely at ease, I sigh knowing that this is exactly where I should be.


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You are currently reading Seven at Lost In the Separation.


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