Last Monday night, I planned my Tuesday. Work the day, lunch at Wendy’s, leave a little early to go vote. Return library books and get a haircut. Run errands and make it an early night.
And though my Tuesday morning turned out to be a lot more eventful than I could have known, the rest of the day was right on schedule. Except for two things:
1. Throughout the day I got amazing messages on Facebook from my friends and family. Whenever a new note would come in and I’d read it, I’d tear up for a moment before I got myself back under control. I guess it was the wild mix of emotions of the morning coming back to me and sweeping past my filters. It was a good thing and I’m grateful to everyone that shared what they were feeling – and helped me process what I was feeling.
2. Every time I went outside – and this continued the rest of the week – my eye kept getting drawn back to that spot. No matter which door I left from, where I was headed, or even when I was in the break-room with a window, I kept looking to the spot on the bridge where a desperate man had almost jumped.
I honestly don’t know what I expected to see there. In my head I know that the most reasonable answer is that I’m not going to see anything there. It’s just a place on the bridge and hundreds of people travel past there each day on foot and by car. And I drove across that bridge each morning, knowing better – and still looking.
And I got along with my days.
There’s a saying about not being able to step into the same river twice. The river changes from moment to moment and is influenced by forces around it – many we can’t even see. The name may stay the same as well as the general direction – but the river is something new.
So it is with people. We are shaped by the collection of experiences in our lives and while my name is the same and I’m headed in generally the same direction as I was, I’m someone just a little bit new.