A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for.
- William G.T. Shedd
It may've taken me into my adult years, but I sailed out of my own metaphorical harbor and into the unknown chasing after a dream (or a windmill depending upon who you asked). I arrived in a distant land and was greeting by many new people, disliked by a few, and eventually caught up to the dream.
Time did it's thing.
Then, the other day, I did something I never expected: I burnt my metaphorical ship. I left a good job with responsibilities that were familiar, unlike the conversation with my boss in a local coffee shop. One by one, my discerned and logical-sounding words left my mouth and crossed the table to my supervisor's ears and the hull of all that was familiar began to smoulder, heat, and crackle. I watched and wondered and metaphorically rubbed my eyes unsure of why I just signed up to explore the unknown.
Using my savings, I went into a store to get supplies for the journey ahead. At the checkout counter, the team member used her fingernail in vain to scrape off the white sticker hiding the UPC code on one of the items I placed on the black rubber belt. Looking up at me, she paused then smiled then said, "Here you go."
Walking out into the dark of autumn while enjoying a free bottle of locally sourced chocolate milk, I remembered that normalcy is found in a lot of places you might expect and that simple kindness maps out a path to hope.