How many times have we circumnavigated this barn on our various bike or vehicle routes over the past two years? Not quite passing it, but riding the adjacent roads surrounding it. We were homing pigeons, circling around a future landing strip.

Finally, I’ve reached the age where certain expectations of me have been shed. I don’t own a house, I don’t have a child, I don’t have an engagement ring, I just barely purchased a respectable vehicle. And I couldn’t be more relieved. Almost everything I thought I’d have by now, based on almighty society’s teachings, is not here. And as I suspected, life can continue without any of it.

I’m sad to admit that I have, on rare occasions, thrown an exasperated hand into the air, often followed by a mouthed expletive. This type of reaction is usually in response to a yellow license plate driving too close to my dog on a walk, or at the person driving the third car in a row over our neighborhood one-way covered bridge.

As I continued the walk and slap my head, I spent a long time trying to figure out what her standing there in that road, like an omen, meant. What was she trying to tell me?