The Other Direction

Yesterday morning, I left my neighborhood and turned left.

For five and a half years, I have turned right.

Every walk.

Every time.

The route had become automatic.

But yesterday, for no particular reason, I went the other way.

A few minutes later, I came across a mural I had never seen before.

It stretched across a wall in bright yellows, blues, greens, oranges, and purples. There were monarch butterflies, horses, and a hummingbird.

I stopped and stared.

The mural hadn't appeared overnight.

It had probably been there all along.

I simply hadn't gone that way.

As I stood there, I thought about how easy it is to assume we've seen everything in a familiar place.

The same trail.

The same neighborhood.

The same life.

Sometimes the thing we're looking for isn't hidden.

We've just been turning right for five and a half years.