When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. Or that’s the idea at least, but other times life starts relentlessly pelting you with lemons until you cry “Oh please stop!”. At which point Life switches fruits and slams you with one Granny Smith after another “How do you like these apples?” Life asks in a menacing way. “I don’t like those apples” you cry helplessly, “I don’t like them at all” So Life rears back and snarls “Then have some more lemons!” And you whimper while Life grinds lemon juice into your cuts and bruises.
Life can be a bit of a dick sometimes. But then again so can I, so really I can’t blame Life that much. However that doesn’t prevent me from crying quietly over my lemon juice marinated wounds.
I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m at a fork in the road. Generally I only recognize these branching spots after I’ve passed them, getting too caught up in the difficulty of the situation to notice the major change occurring in the scenery of my world. My previous forks were precipitated or possibly occurred while life pelted me with various flora and whatever else it could find.
A large part of me wants to huddle with my hurts and wait for the storm to pass.There’s an ease in that, in closing one’s eyes and holding your breath, willing the storm to pass. It means relinquishing all but a little control, and giving into the currents of life, landing where it drops you. In previous years, I’ve chosen this option.
There’s another way too. To duck your head for a moment, find your bearings, and decide on a route rather than letting the path take you. Choosing this method takes bravery and a certain amount of foolhardiness. After all, even the best of plans fail sometimes.
Regardless, the dividing of roads is cause for reflection. Neither curling in on oneself, nor striking out against the howling winds of change can avoid that outcome.