There is a popular saying out there, “do what you love and the money will follow.” I look behind me so much that the front of me is bruised from walking into light posts and parking meters. And to that man whose Mercedes I tripped over the other day, I said I was sorry.
I mean, where is it, this lovely, loving, elusive bundle of cash that is supposed to be trundling after me?
In my head, I hear my mother’s voice chirping another cliche: Patience is a virtue. Sorry Mom, but screw that! I’m fifty freaking years old! How much more patience does anyone expect me to be able to conjure? Any attempt at being virtuous was abandoned long ago anyway. Again, sorry Mom.
In fairness to my mother (God rest her soul) and my inherent clumsiness, I only started the doing-what-I-love part in the last year or two so I guess I’m a long way from having…another cliche…hang on…”paid my dues.” Cliches hurt almost as much as those parking meters…
So, I keep going, as I must and most of the time, I really don’t mind. I was born to write and would fight a lion or two in a stadium filled with toga-clad Romans for the right to continue; however, if the gods would be so kind as to send me a sign…a sign would help me keep my chin up, stay focused, and possibly prevent me from drinking in the middle of the day. Possibly. (It is the holiday season, after all).
My daughter can text 50 of her closest friends while walking to school; surely, I can learn to walk while sneaking quick looks for the money that is surely following me…somewhere. Should I slow down so it can catch up?