When I was 12 years old I learned the unfortunate truth about myself - I have a terrible sense of direction. Or perhaps no sense of direction at all. I remember this one day... I was on my way home from school and some of my friends said they were stopping at Potter's Diner for a cherry Coke. I went along although it took me away from my usual route.
After cherry and chocolate Cokes, giggling and talking about - what else - boys, I left my group of friends and tried to get my bearings and figure out the way home. In the early 60's there were no cell phones, so I had not called my mother. I figured she would think art club ran a little late. As I walked rapidly in what I hoped was the right direction, I realized that I had no idea which way was which. Before long I saw something that alarmed me! I was downtown. Well I just kept tripping doggedly along the sidewalk, hoping to see something familiar. I walked for miles it seemed, although I am sure it was not. I ended up at the muddy bank of the river, no bridge in sight, and in my mind it was like I was at the end of the world and if I were not careful I would drop off!
I stood staring out at the water, tears welling up in my eyes. A rough looking man walked over and asked what was wrong. Any other time I might have run the other way, but in desperation, I replied, "I have no idea how I got here and no idea how to get home!" After giving him my street address he sent me off in the right direction. I didn't start feeling better until I saw a landmark I knew. Heart beating hard with intense relief, I ran the rest of the way when I saw my house. My mom wasn't exactly happy with me, but I hardly noticed because I was home - which was all that mattered in that moment!
My GPS is now my best friend.
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