Flashlights and Flashbacks

I went to Target for the sole purpose of buying a flashlight. I'm pretty sure that the weather is controlled by corporations specializing in severe weather preparedness, and Ozarka, of course. For those of you not in Texas, a tropical storm/ mini-hurricane is supposed to hit sometime tomorrow morning. I don't have a flashlight so I figured that this was as good a time as any to go and get one...

Of course Target is never a one-stop shot. I browsed the clothing and found a cute shirt and skirt, which since I am technically supposed to start work as a full time employee tomorrow seemed like a prudent purchase. But on the way from clothing to outdoor goods I passed the toy section. In light of the upcoming Star Wars movie there was a bright, shiny display of storm trooper helmets that have a voice changer in them. This, of course, made me think of Megan. Thinking of Megan made me think of the epic car trip (or lack thereof) from Hurricane Rita, a trip that does not seem like it occurred two years ago. Where does time go?

Walking on, I finally came to the outdoor activity section. By 8 pm tonight all that was left of flashlights were mini maglights, another item that brought back Hurricane Rita. I purchased the mini-light since any flashlight is better than no flashlight. Well, heading toward the front of the store I passed the back to school section, prompting me to stop, yet again. Jack has invited his cousin and her family over if the electricity goes out (his dad is uber-prepared and has a fantastic generator), so I decided that I would buy some crayons and a coloring book for the littler ones. The coloring books, though, were back in the children's book section. I picked 2 out, but made the mistake of turning around and seeing a plethora of books from my childhood, particularly "I Love You Forever," which still manages to tear me up to this day. I don't own a copy of it and something nostalgic in me implored me to pick the book up and put it in my basket, a memento of happier days with my grandmother. Next to that grouping was the grouping of Dr. Seuss books. I also don't own a copy (or didn't at the time) of "Oh the Places You'll Go." In it went. There's something nice and hopeful about that book and I had failed at getting it as a graduation gift, both times.

Worried about the rapidly increasing number of items in my cart, I tore myself away and went to the check-out, slightly disappointed that my search for a flashlight had garnered so much extra baggage. But on my way home my purchases occurred to me as a smattering of the past and future. Clothes for a new career, books from a previous life.

Sitting here now, in the present, with a cat curled up next to me I realize how little I plan for the present. I'm consumed with my past and my future, but getting me to go buy groceries for today is like pulling teeth. I guess I'm just never content with the here and now. Maybe I just feel constrained because I can't glamorize it and pretend it to be anything different than what it is. I would consider this a major fault, but maybe we're not supposed to simply be content with the present. The past is set, but our interpretations of it lead to countless possibilities. The future holds an infinite number of paths. But the present can only be viewed in terms of those two, where we've come from and where we're going.

Or maybe I've just never been able to settle into myself. The cat seems quite content though.