Almost three months have passed since I stepped off the treadmill. Am I fading away, becoming invisible? Forgotten? Do I want to be remembered?
Relief is gradually turning to expectation. What now? Which direction? Who decides? Does anyone want or need me? Who? Where?
Is there a discernible calling? Shall I lean in the direction of The Encourager and Poet? The Certified Property Manager? The Co-owner of Bryte Constructs LLC? The Bookkeeper? The Real Estate Agent? The Motel/Restaurant Manager? Might I just wait tables at Dans?
Is there something new? Some road not yet taken? Shall I beat the bushes, fly resumes into the unknown, drum up bidness?
What is my highest and best use? Who will pay me to do what? Shall I look for signs, omens, portents? Do I go after it, or let it come to me? Can I be found?
I have a crazy quilt of experience, uncoordinated skill set, a longing for this stage of my life to be more authentic, a desire to learn something new and get paid for it. Knitting isn’t as satisfying as it was a month ago.