I lost my way. Again. Thrice in one week.
I should feel shame, but I wouldn’t. I should feel despair, but I couldn’t. I should have given up, and I almost did.
When I began this trip, I had thought I was on the right track. Heck, even Google Maps had me believe so. So I trudged on confidently till I found myself before the lake that leads out of town. It’s little wonder that I did not find myself completely lost. The long trek through unfamiliar terrains should have signalled for me that something was quite off. But I kept walking, hoping against hope that I would arrive at my destination somehow.
You see, I could lie to myself and say that it was a fun experience. I mean, what with getting blindsided by unmet expectations. Or I could say that I discovered clear paths, explored sharp curves that branched off to a whole new world, and smelled fresh roses in turn. Or I could even try to appear sophisticated to you for having found a long way off the marked path. But I will spare us such pretence and try to tell you as it is.
I am devastated, to say the least. Devastated, at the fact that I have wasted time, a prized asset, that is, which I cannot recover, try as I may. It did not matter to me then because I had felt that I was on and about a worthy cause, my destination being the endgame. Standing before the still water and yet broiling with disquiet, I watched the receding sun switch shades from vibrant to hazy. My eyes drifted to the horizon holding the flitting blend of reds, oranges, and yellows. They mirrored the disarray I felt. Then, it slowly dawned on me that I had lost value along the way, more like casting pearls to a herd of swine.
I am wary, to say the most. Wary that I have burned myself to the degree that I do not trust my judgments. And if I don’t, how do I navigate the simple complexities of life like ‘what do I say?’ or ‘what do I do?’. And if I can’t, who would assume such lofty responsibility for me? These questions mocked me as they evaporated into the deep recess of my mind like my wispy breath in the open.
I am sad in between, the kind of sadness that leaves you wondering if you’ll be okay at the end. An end you cannot envision. A vision you cannot project. I had hoped to reach my destination before the day’s end. As you can see, I’m at a loss for both ends.
If you asked me how it began, I couldn’t possibly tell. All I remember is straying off a particular lane because it was muddy and strewn with dirt. The opposite one was cobblestoned and appeared more travelled. And I took it. Google supported my change of motion for good measure. If you asked me how it would end, I still couldn’t tell as I am likely to roll my sleeves and try to find my way. But at this point, that is not a given.
Thinking hard, I do not know if the journey was worth it or not, seeing that nothing went as planned.
Are plans even meant to fold in three quick successions as they have for me? My mind wrestled.
Oh well, maybe they are or maybe not. Also, it might just be too late for regrets now.
Am I even afforded the luxury of regrets? I wondered.
No one would tell me. The trees looked on in quiet sobriety, occasionally moving their branches to the coaxing of the gentle wind. I shrugged, having realised that I would rather bear my shame within me than spread it like clean linen in need of sunlight.
I sank to the ground and learned too late that I was sitting on mud, the same mud that had influenced my diversion. At that moment, I burst into laughter that ended in premium tears. My sobs were so loud that the flight of pigeons abruptly closed shop and left the beach. I watched them silently with heavy lids and suddenly heard:
Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.
I blinked and looked around. There was no one.
Then I heard it again, loud and clear. The voice splattered across the lake, repeating the words. My eyes followed the teenager keenly as he counted his steps with each spoken word, ignorant of his audience.
The woods swallowed his young frame, and his voice died out in the distance, leaving me with hope to cling on.
