Time Warp

All four seasons collided today in my back yard. After the preschoolers trailed in wet leaves, I realized the lull in the rain practically required me to rake up the slimy leaves.

So, at naptime, I donned gloves and boots and ventured into the soggy back yard. I raked leaves (autumn), while the sun shone (summer), noted the green shoots from crocuses and daffodils in the flowerbeds (spring) and yet, it is January (winter, according to the calendar). The afternoon was so pleasant and my mood reflected the sunny skies. That's what I love about the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes the seasons merge together or appear out of order, unlike the snowy winters of northern Michigan where a relentless cold wind blew west to east, leaving six foot drifts of snow by winter's end.

The rain eventually stops.

I've queried several friends and relatives, pleading with them to tell me what to do. Should I go to school, with the eventual goal of becoming a nurse? Or not? Am I too old? Nearly everyone has encouraged me to pursue schooling . . . and I think that's probably the wise thing to do. I told myself to day I can always quit--at any step, I can quit. The important thing is to start, take the first step.

I know a terrible fact about myself, though, that threatens to trip me. I am sequential in my approach to life and tasks and sometimes this is a problem because I can't do a particular thing until I do something else first. For instance, I can't bake cookies until the kitchen is completely clean. And I can't work on scrapbooks until my house is tidy. Can I go to class while my laundry remains wrinkled?

I'm worried that I can't possibly start school until every thing else lines up in impeccable order, which is clearly impossible since I live in a house with four children, three cats, school-at-home books stacked on my desk, a cupboard jumbled with Corningware and Tupperware without matching lids, and thirty-seven unmatched socks who've lost mates.

I am distressed to skip ahead when all this isn't quite lined up and resolved. But this will never be lined up and resolved and I must lift up my eyes and focus on the future. For in ten years, I will be fifty . . . but will I be fifty with an interesting, lucrative, flexible job or will I be fifty, wondering why I never did get my act together?

Well, for now, that question looms stark while the answer remains blurry around the edges. But I think the essence of the answer involves accepting the jumble around me and forging ahead.

Tomorrow I will make a list of the steps I should take. One step at a time, even if that voice in my head is screeching in panic about the random insanity of starting something when everything else is half-unraveled. That's not crazy, right? That's progress.