Yesterday I took a walk in the park behind our apartment. It's a nifty little park, little being the operative word. But it suits us nicely. A trail that circles around a playground offset by some benches, a couple trees, and a grassy knoll. It's been my sanity these past few months because currently, I have no job. There are many reasons why I have no job, but none are sad reasons and all are self inflicted reasons. I didn't get fired or anything. We came back from tour and I'm asking, what now?
Having nothing to do during the day but clean my apartment doesn't suit me and I get depressed easily. There are too many walls and too many thoughts in my head. If I have no errands to run then I take a walk. Most of my thoughts that lead to my walks have to do with God's will and if I'm in it. Or what it will be three months from now.
On my walks I have been seeing the same woman in my park that must live in the apartment building next to me. She comes out with her extremely old dog and sometimes it's the dog and her bright green parrot. Yes, a parrot on her shoulder. And sometimes there are kids around her that want to hear the bright green parrot talk, but mostly, she's alone, with her dog. Her name is Carol.
I didn't know her name for a while because I didn't want to stop to talk with her. Carol makes me uncomfortable. Mostly because she wants so much to talk to me. That makes me very uncomfortable. Carol has small yellowish brown teeth that are fixed crookedly inside her mouth, with great big eyes that stare. Carol is always wearing the same gray T-shirt that hangs over her short, worn, lumpy body. And she always says the same thing, for no apparent reason because Carol is not my friend. She says how March 30 will be the year annniversary of her husband's death. Her husband's name is Tim.
That brings us to yesterday. I was walking on the trail around the park and noticed Carol sitting alone on a bench while her old dog rolled in the grass. I had a choice. I stopped my walk and my thoughts to talk to her, or I ignored her. I chose the better of the two options, and that's when I found out her name was Carol. And that she also has three evil sisters that she says steals her money. That she can't work because she collects disability for a mental illness that involves anxiety. That her house with the memories of Tim sold recently at less than market value. And that when she used to work for a bank the security guard at the bank attacked her, and that's what caused her mental illness. I know more about Carol than I know about most of my friends, because Carol is lonely.
That's when she asked what I did for a living, and I told her that my husband and I were musicians. Do we have a CD, she asked. Well yeah we do, I said. Actually, you know I have one in my car. Let me just give it to you. She said that no, she really wanted to pay for it. I argued. She persisted. I said OK, ten bucks. I got the CD, she got her money. We met back at the bench. I gave her the CD, she gave me her money. I looked at the bill in my hand and as I did...thought Carol was the best thing that had happened to me all day. Instead of a ten dollar bill, the bill that sat in my hand said $1. I smiled at Carol, said thank you, and folded the bill in the palm of my hand.
I think that maybe one reason I don't have a job right now is to talk to Carol. I think that God's will for my life is to talk to Carol. And that maybe if I can't work and talk to Carol at the same time, I shouldn't be working.