open/shut

everything happens for a reason. when one door closes, another opens. someday this will all make sense. everything must change. this is meant to be or it wouldn’t have happened this way. acceptance is the key. everything happens for a reason. i know its hard to let go, but this is the start of something wonderful and new. everything must change.

i am a creature of habit, of ritual, of holding on to things. rationally i know this behavior is silly and mostly leads to frustration because, yes, everything must change. yet i’m starting to realize i can’t be the only person in the world who behaves this way – there are far too many catchphrases and philosophies and self-help books designed to help one cope with change for me to think i’m alone in the wilderness, holding tightly to a tree while the rest of humanity goes happily flying by on the shifting winds of fate. and every time i think i’m better at it, the world throws me a big fat reminder that i haven’t even begun to learn how to accept the unexpected. a friend of mine said “i believe in going through all changes in life kicking and screaming, at least on the inside”. ah, so i’m not alone.

last night, the night before i sold my apartment, there was a car crash on the corner outside my building. i was in my garage when i heard a series of strange and hollow thuds. i came out of the alley and saw a minivan facing the wrong direction in the one-way street. both the side and the front of the van were crumpled. there was a smaller car nose-to-nose with the van, its front end completely destroyed. people had stopped haphazardly in the middle of the street and were running towards the two cars. the horn of one was stuck, blaring loudly, like some dramatic scene in a movie. it seemed there were plenty of people to help, so i drove through quickly and got out of the way. for several minutes i couldn’t erase the sound of the horn from my mind. and i heard sirens in the distance, rushing to the scene.

when i came home much later, there were shards of shattered glass in the street. i climbed the stairs to my apartment and got ready for bed. then i found myself thinking: this is the last night i will sleep in my own apartment. tomorrow it won’t be mine anymore. i walked to the window to look at the street scene i’ve stared at every night for nearly eight years, and there was only pitch black. i blinked, wondering what was wrong. then i realized that when the cars ran into each other, the impact threw them onto the sidewalk, knocking over the streetlight that illuminates the edge of my yard and the tall trees and gazebo on the opposite corner.

one car was moving too slow, holding on. the other was going too fast and unable to stop. i looked out the window at the darkness, and felt my stubborn need to hang on, to resist – and i felt the part of me that understands change and forward motion – and it all came together, like the cars colliding. the impact knocked over the light on my familiar street scene, and something said: lights out, the show is over, it’s time to leave.

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