up above

In the late afternoon, I stood at a window looking out over the city. The street grids lay before me, and the tops of buildings whose lower walls I see every day. There were more parking garages than I thought possible. Far off in the distance, I could see my building.

Things made sense from up above in a way they don't from the ground. Things I've been learning slowly, day by walking busing training day, were suddenly clear. I could see where that bridge comes into town, and the planes landing out at the airport, descending slowly into the trees. I could see how the land curves around the water, and the water around the land. I could see where the flat becomes hill, and how the houses rise precariously from the tilt.

I wish I could see my life as clearly right now. I have to make some decisions, and any one could be right, and any one could be wrong. And most of them depend on the decisions of other people, first. I want to see it laid out like a grid before me, like my resume does, now that I look back at the jobs in Rwanda, in Tanzania, in Liberia, in South Sudan. Except that grid has nothing to do with the world around me now. The map I have in my head doesn't transpose onto this life I'm living, and the choice I want most is something completely unexpected and, just maybe, completely perfect.

And then there is the health insurance desperation, hanging forever over my head.