SEARCHING FOR THE THREAD OF MY BLOG

It seemed as if we were on a trip together. Way back when I’d just returned from my first heart operation—the quadruple bypass—I was feeling lost and vulnerable. I’d begun the journey of blogging with "you"—the invisible audience of people I am sharing with. Looking back, it’s been only six months, which is hardly a blip in the big scheme of things. I felt as if we, together, had climbed aboard some sort of old bus (the Merry Pranksters maybe, or an old white church bus maybe). The bus was filled with those wonderful smells of having been used, having been places… places we might be seeing soon. Since I’d just survived a major heart operation—one where they put me on a heart-lung machine to keep me alive, there was plenty to talk about. A man who’d been miraculously strong and energetic all his life, suddenly I’d been brought to my knees with this broken heart. During the days and months afterwards I didn’t feel completely "myself". Even now, I don’t have the stamina I once had.

But, somewhere, fairly recently, I lost the thread of my blog. There are lots of reasons that might have caused it, but it would most likely take a long time to find them. I feel like I got off the bus to take a pee and it went on without me!

But I feel that—having lost the thread of my journey—luckily I've arrived back in that "lost and vulnerable" state I was in at the beginning. I am able to admit, once again, that my life is feeling unmanageable. I like the term, "out of sorts." That’s what I’m feeling right now.

But, being a hopeful kind of guy, this is what today looks like: I am standing on the side of the road. It is hot and dusty; I feel my pack leaning against my right foot. The familiar old bus is pulling up. The driver opens the door right in front of me. I am welcomed by the driver’s broad smile. I notice the worn black rubber mats on the steps going in. A good sign, I think—tit reminds me this bus has been places.

I pick up my pack and climb aboard, I smell the old familiar smells. I take a seat near the front by the window. The window is open letting the hot breeze in. The driver looks in the mirror checking to see if I’m seated. He’s pulling the door closed and putting the old crate into gear. With a bit of a jolt, we’re off again, I can feel it. I’m not at all sure where we’re going, but I’m just happy to be in motion once again.