Yesterday I found myself standing in line behind a tall white woman in her fifties and I couldn’t help but wonder what her story was.  She seemed sad while I watched her place a cream sweater with orange flecks on the counter as the cashier folded the lacy blouse that had already been emptied from her cart.  The woman unloaded a few more items and put them in front of the cashier, but I don’t remember what they were.

As I stood there holding my soon to be new exercise apparatus, I thought about my own story and journey.  Embarking upon life is no small venture.  Every day billions of lives are swirling around us, bumping - pushing - jabbing into us - creating a sort of wild dance as we waltz towards our destination - wherever that is.  Someone somewhere once said that the journey is the destination, and though I realize the wisdom in this, I still can’t help but ask “Are we there yet?” Because damn it, I want to arrive - sporting bells - and a pointy bra with tassels.