|Mary, me, Joyce and Nancy, circa 1982.|
Exactly two weeks ago today I went to Haiti, hoping a giant leap outside my comfort zone might land me closer to my goal. One week ago I came back, apparently to the exact same place, and although several seeds were planted, I still don't know. So I gobble up books about how to get where you're going, and marvel at others who claim to have already arrived, but still I'm clueless. It's frustrating since time is running out, and not just for me. (The eroding planet, the crazy dictators, poverty, disease, etc.)
I will now go wash the kitchen floor. And while that won't make my whole life worth living, at least it will make me feel better about the kitchen floor, at least for this one day. By tomorrow it will look just as dirty. Black is so wrong for a kitchen floor.