I thought about starting to write my resume. What would I do if I were being really honest? Travel writer. That sounds good. Journeying to new places and eating. Of course, I have anxiety traveling below 70th street. And I still haven’t figured out how to use the camera that a friend gave me for my birthday. But new classes are coming up for the fall season at the 92nd Street Y. Tour guide. I’m good at meeting new people, but then there are so many of them marching around Rockefeller Center. I’ll bet they are very territorial. How about French Chef? Julia Child became a phenomenon late in life. But I’ve never even boiled water. I just removed an entire library of recipe books from my closets and their lying on my living room couch. This little book farm is sprawled out disabled, out of action. They remind me of former of engagements. I know I should get rid of them. Donate them to a happy cooker. It’s hard to part with past unmet expectations. What are the new ones? I hear the mumbling of the TV.
So, God, don’t you think it’s time that you tell me what my mission in life is? What only I am meant to do? As I think this, I hear a character from an old black and white film say, “Trust in God, and be yourself. And I wondered, does God give us messages through the television set?