Monday, August 17th PM

I'm sittin ghere in the Taco Bell parking lot wondering if I should take a half hour to myself at On The Border, or grab some "toxic hell" and rush to Wal-Mart and grab a clipboard (who knows why) and make a mad dash home to my TV-loving husband and bored 3 1/2 year old.  It's a hard decision, my loyal wife-and-mother side is saying, "how could you eat out for dinner alone and not bring your family?" and my youth and independence are screaming for revival at On The Border alone. 

Maybe they're being revived here in the driver's seat of my car, facing the back of a Wells Fargo, away from my likely destination, Taco Bell.  As I write these words and listen to music - probably too loud - without thinking about anyone but me, I realize I'm still here; I'm still me.  I love this song.  I like wearing a seatbelt, makes me feel hugged.  I love my worn out purse that's covered in fake rhinestones that jab me every time I grab it.  I love being warm, 91 degrees at night isn't bad, it's comforting like a blanket.  Which reminds me that I miss my Sebring only if for those perfect made-for-convertible days.  The air you breathe while moving fast is something indescribable almost, like being allowed the opportunity to forget to breathe on your own for a second, and blue skies are a visible reprieve from the cluttered earth.

Maybe this is what I needed; a parking lot - a Taco Bell parking lot - facing the back of a Wells Fargo where the blaring neon orange sun is flashing me from one of the reflective windows (probably encasing a bland gray loan office with a few posed family pictures around a generic office setup.)  Sun is sinking fast.  Taco Bell sounds good, I guess I'll call Josh and see what he wants and I'll get Aiden the same thing he always gets: cheese wrapped with a tortilla... yuck.  I'll still get that clipboard (and maybe some sharpies if they have any new colors [and they did!!]) I hope Wal-Mart has one. 

(I couldn't hold back a smile as I put it in reverse to back out of the parking space.  Life is good.)

How many footprints do we leave lying around?  On the ground, on the internet, on people's minds, hearts, lives.  How many unintended impressions do we make?  How many of these do we carry with us?

I'm caught mulling over the life I had before.  I'm fumbling over my dreams and all my loves, trying to sort out what is what. 

This is where I am:

One that should care - doesn't, one's that shouldn't - do.