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.<\/p>\n
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:<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
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.
\nAnd I got along with my days.
\nThere’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.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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