Treading in the Deep End

Well, it happened - I climbed aboard the Wacko Train. It's a lot more decadent than I thought it would be and I got a nice, cushy window seat in first class. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, with a racing heartbeat and sweaty palms. Wondering if I will be showered with gifts and prizes by sexy girls in bikinis and high heels as the obnoxious music blares and confetti floats through the air. Or if I will soon find myself sweating, bug-eyed, struggling and tangled in the base of my seat as the train topples over the edge of the Huey P. Long bridge and splashes in the water.

It's not the first time and I'm pretty sure it isn't the last. In order for things to change, you have to open yourself and let it happen. Sometimes you find a beginning and sometimes you find an end. But, all ends lead to a beginning. It's time, I'm ready and I'm open. It's been barely over 24 hours since I quit resisting, and it has brought me great humility and a little pain. Even so, there's this little flutter in me - of relief and of excitement - the cessation of stagnation.

I reach out with my left hand to grasp the hand propped on the armrest and wonder if it's the hand of an angel or the devil. I twine my fingers with the being, take a deep breath and sink into my seat......

melodia