Am I in the Right Station?

I may well have asked myself that question the moment I slid out from between my mothers legs 52 years ago. I always seem to feel like I'm missing something, forgetting something, unable to focus and not quite sure what to do next.  The good news is, I now know I'm not alone.  True, I've had friends who described the same feeling, but for many of them it seems the means to adapt was within reach. Somehow the found that magic key that opens the door to a "normal" or "functional" life. In College they do more than just go to school, they belong to student associations and clubs. They establish relationships with Professors who invite them to their offices for coffee and provide them with shining references upon graduation. They go on to develop careers, relationships, buy homes, have insurance and cars and so on. They continue to feel lost or different or questioning, but they have the means to function within the model life that has been somehow agreed upon as the blueprint for the American Way. They are riding that train to nowhere but they're on the train, they bought the ticket. Some people learn to ride the rails, to hop the train just as far as they need to go; and then there's people like me, who did all the right things got our ticket, only to discover we've arrived at the wrong platform, or got there 25 minutes late. Some people may have even gotten aboard, only to be given the bums rush by some conductor for not following the rules.
Others encourage us, give us helpful tips, develop strategies for better organization etc. Generally they mean well and genuinely want to help; just as we want their suggestions to work for us. No wonder everyone, ourselves included, is surprised when that daily folder accordion file ends up with Mondays notes in Wednesdays folder along with a drawing given to us by the kid next door and  maybe a bill that was due two years ago. Most likely the folder is covered with phone numbers (whose number? we don't know) doodles and coffee stains
Now, in my mid life, I'm discovering the comfort of sitting aside watching the train go by. I look up at the passengers and see that most of them are oblivious to the surroundings, captivated by the world being presented to them by their IPhones or Wall Street Journals; but at least one passenger is gazing wistfully out the window at the landscape. Our eyes meet, I smile and wave.
© 2010-2011 Nanakoosa’s Place, authored by Jennifer Hazard