Making a Change

                She strolled through the open market for hours, Meg loved moments like this. It was a gorgeous day and the fresh air was a much needed change. Perusing the many booths set up she wished for a less complicated life. Ahead of her was sheer billowing fabric, light and pink, puffed out from the wind like the sails on a boat. Her mind began to wander to a life of freedom, no responsibility, no complications. Life on a boat seemed like it would be the only place on earth that could provide such a respite. She had sailed some when she was younger.  Uncle Logan had given her some sailing lessons. It had been many years since she had thought about him and their visits, his rich lifestyle. The family would step in and send her there, during her “troubled times.” The moments that insanity burst into their lives like the explosion of a balloon being overfilled. Her mother would become loud and full of fury with no apparent rationale. The very definition of mental instability she surmised. She stopped at the fabric booth, running her hand over the soft velour, then onto the raised texture on the upholstery fabric, none of it inexpensive.

                As she continued through the cobblestone covered arena she stopped to watch the children on the playground across the street. Plastic slides in the shape of dinosaurs and large woven baskets hanging and spinning provided hours of fun. Children’s laughter and squeals sailed on the wind as she watched them running and jumping. Again she realized the majority of her life had been a burden of responsibility, often decisions well beyond her years. She dreamt of a day she could run, jump and squeal in absolute jovial utopia.

                As much as she savored her occasions in the market time was swiftly moving forward and she needed to get to work. One last look back across the field of booths and people, she drew in a deep breath turning to head to the library where she worked. It wasn’t a long walk, she used the time to alter her mind, to align more to the tasks of her job. Dealing with her boss Aiden always required mental preparation, he was so condescending. He could often be as explosive as her mother too, something she had a lifetime of dealing with. However, it didn’t make it any easier. She couldn’t push aside the melancholy that had seeped into her life over the past few years. Even now she wondered when she had unconsciously settled for so little.

                In front of her the soaring columns of marble dominated the entrance to the library. She reluctantly labored up the steps and unlocked the massive wooden doors. Once inside she flipped the sign to open and set about turning on the lights. Under the office door she noticed the line of light that reported to her that Aiden was already here. This wasn’t unusual, he seemed to use the hour before opening calculating how to make her day miserable. She changed her usual movement around the library to an even more hushed tip toe hoping he hadn’t heard her. “Meg, I need you in here!” he barked the order. So much for hoping. She drug herself into the room and didn’t speak a word. “There were a number of books left in the return box. Why were they not put back on the shelf before you went home? It portrays laziness, how can a patron find the book they want if you have it hidden in the return box?” She knew each question was rhetorical and there was no use in trying to answer or explain. “I do not understand why I have to stress this almost on a daily basis to you. Among your other careless behaviors you are walking a thin line if you want to keep this job.” Meg meekly answered, “Yes Sir, Mr. Travers. My apologies, I will try to be more attentive to my duties.” What she really wanted to say was that she tried to explain to him when he kicked her out of the building last night that she was not finished putting the books away. He looked down at the papers on his desk dismissing her with his hand grumbling “Get out and get busy before your opening duties suffer because of your negligence last night.”

                Meg ambled between the extensive shelving, stirred by the musk of leather and binding glue. She collected books that had been replaced improperly. Often she found them shoved on top of other books or even on the floor. As she restored the books to their rightful places her anguish rose up again. She pleaded in a silent prayer, “please God; give me something, a sign to how I can end this hopelessness. How can I find the ever elusive joy others have?” She heard footsteps on the wooden floor emanating from the entrance. She left her cart and made her way to the circulation desk to make herself available to the individual should he/she need it. She nodded at the man as he headed for the Science section. Sitting down in the large leather chair she typed in the passwords and waited for the computer in front of her to comply. The blue glimmer cast a hue on Meg’s cheeks as she leaned in working fervently to log in the books that needed to go back on the shelf.

                Aiden Travers must have been bored, this cruel man with no provocation stormed around the circulation desk. He stood behind Meg, bent over close to her ear and through gritted teeth he began to belittle her with a barrage of insults. Her body stiffened and she was repulsed by the feel of his torrid breath on her ear and cheek. She could not concentrate on his words, she was fixated on the thoughts of how much he disgusted her and she just wanted him to dissipate. The loud hammer of the wood door intruded on the moment. Aiden stood up abruptly, grabbing the bottom of his suit vest with both hands he tugged to straighten his look. He ran his right hand down his front over his tie and tweaked his neck with a smug look on his face. He turned and paraded back to his office. Meg lifted her head and saw a young lady in a long cream coat with a scarf over her head. The light danced on the scarf sparkling over small droplets of water, the weather must have turned. They make eye contact and each of them share a small smile of recognition. The connection lost at the ringing of the telephone.

                Her cousin Mason, Uncle Logan’s son, quickly said her name. He didn’t wait to make sure it was her he just pressed forward with the message that his father had died. Meg conveyed her sympathies, it had been so many years she was surprised that she was even being informed of his death. Meg hinted at this, Mason seemed irritated. “Meg, dad always wanted you to live with us, he tried to adopt you and failed that is when your mother forbade him to ever see you again. He always hoped you would seek him out when you got older.” Meg was astonished, she had never realized he wanted her, nor did she have any knowledge of him trying to adopt her. When she asked to see him her mother would tell her that because he hated his sister he didn’t want to see his niece.  As she grew up she believed that he must not have cared too much, since he would let his anger at her mother keep him from seeing her. Mason interrupted her thoughts, “Look Meg, I have to go I will send you over the details for the funeral, and Meg dad wanted you to have the sail boat. It’s up to you what you want to do with it.” The phone went dead and Meg was stunned. Why had she let so much time go by without reaching out? Her regrets and his death weighed heavily and she grieved for the loss of relationships, time and life. Why had she believed the lies fed to her as a child? Why would her mother not allow her a happier life with Uncle Logan? Her mind raced from question to question creating more confusion and exasperation. What her life could have been, should have been, danced through her imagination.

                The woman in the scarf was approaching the door, trailing behind her a small boy with dark hair and big brown eyes. Meg wondered how she missed the little boy with her before. It must have been the distraction of the phone call. She again gave a small smile to the woman and her eyes dropped back down to the small boy. He was shuffling behind her and chattering away. Meg watched him swing his arms, her eyes were drawn to an object in his hand. As he twisted his wrist she observed the small plastic, blue and white toy boat, just before he disappeared behind the height of the desk. Her inner voice shouted, “What are you going to do with a boat!?”

                Once she had stepped out and locked the door behind her, her thoughts wandered through her life repetitively. She ruminated on the baseless reprimands from her boss. Moving to the numerous financial and emotional bail-outs for her mother that resulted in nothing but her mother’s contempt and entitled demeanor. The drizzle in the night sky gave a crisp renewal to the air. The moon moved from behind the clouds illuminating the path in front of her. It was a path that was all too familiar, one she travelled nightly. This is when it hit her, how powerful God is. Her earlier prayer was not ignored or dismissed. She was so caught up in her own mind and depression she wasn’t listening. She realized that she had been waiting for a clear and explicit booming voice with instructions about how to make her life better. She finally recognized God was speaking and sending not only instructions, but the means as well for her to move forward. Her life was changing and as scary as it was to take such a leap, she knew without any doubt that God was guiding her to a new path. One she was sure would lead her to joy and contentment. For the first time in her life optimism prevailed over the cloud of angst. She had truly handed to God her troubles and she had never felt so much anticipation and excitement in her life. She would never go back.