Usually I put my shoes away, or they end up scattered around the room (slippers by my bed, sneakers in the closet, running shoes actually in the shoe rack on the closet door like they belong). But these past two days have seen the accumulation of my footwear all in one spot. It’s like I can’t decide what I’m doing next: running for leisurely sake? lounging around at night in slippers? picking up messes around the house in flip flops? running a whole day of errands in hot summer heat? Leaving? Staying? Going deeper? Being rooted out?
On a different note, I called Adam-brother who has been handling my family’s Verizon accounts for what seems like the past decade or so. Turns out he can easily change my phone number if I go in. I guess after nearly seven years it’s time to move on from my Bay Area area code. And four years in the 916 is a rather long time. But I must say it’s rather overwhelming to think of all the accounts my phone number is linked to that I’m going to have to update. And when do I do it? ASAP? (Might as well, my impulsive impatient self says).
The reality and permanence of the next step is slowly starting to sink in. Jesus, show me how this is a promise land when it feels like an unknown wilderness.
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