I’m drawn to perfectly timed phenomena.
Once, I pulled a skull welding helmet over my eyes out of fear – the promise of a protective, darkened layer just for a moment calmed me. Yet, as we all know, reality often diverges from what we’re told.
Having made a game since I was little out of gazing at the sun – and never scoring below a perfect 20/20 on an eye exam – the “don’t look directly at the eclipse” hysteria left me skeptical. So, when I drove five hours to Prineville, Oregon, met a stranger at a diner, was invited to bunk in the trunk of my car on their property, only to follow them the next day to their church’s potluck and viewing party, you can bet that mask came off.
It was one minute and seven seconds worth of proving the panic wrong.
When the town’s name slipped from my memory while writing this post, I turned to Google. As fate would have it, I found myself parked in that person’s goat farm driveway, exactly six years ago to this very day. And the moment of totality, when I sat on that bench with a satisfied belly, was six years ago tomorrow.
Ok, time for another thought. Picture life from birth till now as a roller coaster, each moment like a click-click-click to an impending plunge on the other side. I feel like I’m hurtling through time without a clue of my place on the track and it has me with my arms flung up with the sense of being on the cusp of something exciting. Yet, also I feel stranded in a pitch-blackness, unsure how long it’ll be until my next grand event will unfold.
I’m the sort of person who, even at 41, with stability and consistency thanks to parenthood and marriage, if something extraordinary comes my way, like Mary Poppins’ umbrella, I’d grab it by its slick handled curve, and fly away with it.
Am I foreshadowing something? I’m no psychic, but…
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 