Who's in charge, here?

I do not consider myself a religious person. I have had fleeting moments of what I would call an increased sense of spirituality, but even those have been tinged with guilt, as I only seem to search for something bigger, all-knowing, or other-worldly when I'm hurting or confused.

And so, yesterday afternoon, as I found myself walking rather aimlessly around in the hot sun in the California foothills, wondering how exactly I got here, I felt that creeping sense that maybe (hopefully?) a good deal of this is out of my control anyway, and that somehow, some time (hopefully soon?) I will find myself propelled forward and away, to a new chapter in my life. Maybe a better one.

But I have to say – whoever it is who's in charge up there, I don't know if there's been a shift change, a maternity leave, maybe? Perhaps you're new at this, and I can make allowances, but just so we're clear, things haven't been going so shit hot down here, and so, maybe, when you get a chance, you could sneak another quick look at my file?

Because I'm pretty sure, although I guess you're the expert, but I'm fairly certain this isn't the way it was meant to go.

Remembering

I remember the dates of everything. This can be annoying to people around me, but I seem to have a remarkable memory for recalling the day, the month, the year of situations that had an impact on me.

And so, it has been very close to a year since the night his leg wrapped around mine underneath the table, cutting short the conversation I was having with the drunken girl beside me. As our eyes, colour still unfamiliar, met, I knew that the look on his face would remain a burned image in my brain for a long time to come.

The months that ensued were a whirlwind and ones also not soon forgotten. And yet, it's so strange that while I can recall so many of the dates, the times, the places, spaces, faces, the month, the week, the day, when it comes to the moment, oh, that cruel moment, when everything shifted, I cannot remember, cannot remember at all.