Change and I have never been friends. I tend to stick in ruts rather than forging a new path. My life would probably be very different but for simple events that led me here, plodding along in their wake.
Oh, I make cosmetic changes, for sure. I’ve gone through various phases, from conservative to goth in dress and attitude; exchanging talk shows for alternative rock on the radio. The important matters, however, such as where to work and live, have been dictated by chance.
There have been no big dreams I took a chance on trying, just jobs found through temporary agencies and a house that limited the resulting commute. Even my pets, whom I love dearly, have been virtually (in one case, literally!) dropped in my lap as strays. It’s pretty sad, in retrospect.
But, on the bright side, I’m not dead yet. Maybe there is a butterfly inside this shell, waiting for the right time to break free from its cocoon. And despite temperatures in my boring, landlocked suburban neighborhood, the old fashioned wall calendar I’m looking at announces Wednesday as the first day of spring.
What better time to spread my wings? Now if I can only figure out in which direction to fly. I’ve never been a migratory creature. Wish me luck.