It Went That Way

You could see the curtain of rain coming. Sun shone under the clouds and lit the coming squall as it moved across the park. You sat in the car as drops pelted the roof and splattered on the windshield. A smell of wet dog filled the car, sent you into a swoon. Might as well pick up the journal and scribble a bit until the shower passes. It has been a full day, and you have been lucky to get through it. The familiar stuff of routine was manageable, but the new stuff, the having to problem solve, that was different. Your brain just wouldn't respond to it, couldn't seem to track enough to consider the options. Nothing new would sink in. Your brain was an impermeable membrane, off of which things just bounced, like the rain drops on the roof. You wanted it to be different. This was going to be a good time of your life: a little money, a little freedom. Now it just seems confusing. Even the ordinary stuff doesn't make sense. You can't seem to find a way around it, so you are just in it. Pretty soon, people will come and you can get out of the car, go work out a bit. At least your body is working still. The love, achievement, and redemption you thought you might find skips ahead of you, just out reach, pulling away, never to be embraced. Maybe next time.