Some of you might have picked up on the comments I’ve dropped here and there in recent weeks about making some big decisions and life changes.
The last time I made such hints about an upcoming adventure and then wrote A Big Reveal, I worried some of you. And completely freaked out my parents.
It was amusing. (The real explanation for that can be found here.)
In order to explain a bit about what’s been going on in my life, I thought I’d write you a story.
The Metaphorical Story With Hints of Cliché
For at least five years now, it’s like I’ve been walking down a bitumen road that goes on and on and on and on, forever, in a straight black line, never shifting, never swerving, with no flowers to the side and no fluffy clouds above, just on and on until the horizon.
However, in recent months, it became like the sun was burning hotter and brighter, and like the bitumen was melting under my feet. Each step was a struggle to pull my shoes free of the sticky strands of black, and the fumes started to make me feel dizzy.
So I stopped. I stopped walking in that direction. Instead, I listened to my friends and family, and I cartwheeled off the road.
Now, it’s like I’m walking up a green hill. I can’t see what’s on the other side, and yes, today I slipped and fell in the dirt face-first, but my mum helped dry my muddy tears and I’m determined to keep walking.
* * *
So that’s it for tonight. For the next little while, I might be a little less hyperactive than normal when it comes to commenting on your blogs, but then again I might be equally as present. I’m not sure.
Before I go, though, I’ll leave you with a teaser about the dessert I had at my mum’s birthday dinner on the weekend. It wasn’t awful.
P.S. Oh, heck. You know I can’t leave well enough alone. I have to give you some advice:
If you join a non-religious gospel choir, keep in mind that even if the group itself isn’t religious, the music is still spiritual. And that you therefore might want to double-check the lyrics even if you think you heard them correctly the first time.
Because it turns out that the lyrics are “…in the Scriptures of the past”.
And you were singing – nay, belting out – “…in the Scriptures of the bus”.
THE SCRIPTURES OF THE BUS.
Hannah the Nincompoop.