"Yes?" I replied.
"Can you tell me how to get to Fifth Avenue from here?" she questioned with the total perplexed look on her face.
"Well, we're on Sixth Avenue, so if you head one more block East, you'll be at Fifth," I said answering her and trying not to be sarcastic. I mean, she could be a tourist or just in the city for the day. I could see how a person could get a bit confused in this city...even with the grid being in mostly numerical order.
As I walked across the street, I got to thinking about the fact that she was asking me for directions (I often spend most days feeling a touch lost moving through my everyday life). I don't know why I thought that was so funny, but probably for that lost feeling that I randomly experience, I just did.
Now, I can't say that it's the first time that this has happened to me (someone stopping me for directions, that is)...actually, it happens to me all the time, but maybe it happens like that for everyone and I just don't know about it? Nah, some people have to know where they're going, right? I would like to think so, but working in the hub of the city that I do, maybe I'm wrong?
I had someone contact me last week that I haven't spoken to in quite some time. We had something of a falling out maybe seven years ago (before this blog) and haven't spoken since. Basically, he said a few things in error and I didn't care for it, so in my mind, I rightfully cut him off. Sure, I could have thought more about it and selected a different choice of action, but at the time, that's the choice I chose that was healthiest for me...the right direction that I wanted.
Well, his email stirred up some emotions that I didn't even know that I had brewing inside me...either for the moment or for the incident that had happened so long ago. I can't say that I gave what happend all that much thought through out the years, but it was something that bothered me. Like the saying goes, time heals all wounds, but I got to thinking...does it really? Sure, I had mainly forgotten about him, but like ripping the band-aid off of a wound (and the scab coming with it), I was flooded with feelings that I hadn't felt in quite a long time. Why was this and what was it supposed to teach me?
Needless to say, I read his email and replied saying that sometimes we do/say things at various points in our life and they don't have to define who we really are (I know I have). I told him that I accepted his apology, because it closed a chapter in my life that I didn't realize was still open, but at the same time, it allowed him to move on (someone contacts you seven years later, they must be sorry or looking for money...and he didn't ask for a cent).
It's funny how life and decisions change as you grow older and you mature in directions you never thought possible.
Maybe I'm better at finding Fifth Avenue than I thought?