A Full Stop.

A stop sign at the end of a road. That's where I did my thinking.

A brief pause before a treacherous left turn, before my time alone was up and I had to face them all again.

I remember sitting there, the minivan shaking with effort all around me, crying and praying. I would use that precious time to talk to God, and ask Him what was wrong with me

and ask for help.

I would talk to myself, work out my problems. Many speeches, later delivered without tears over silent telephone lines, were composed and concluded at that stop sign.

Night was the best time. There would be no cars around me to stare at my unceasing lips, no one behind me to honk if I paused a little too long. I could lay my head down on my steering wheel and scream if I wanted. 

I did.

Sea and woods. Family and individuality. God and me. How does it all fit? I've been trying to make it all fit.

Here there was no

"I told you so"

"Because I said so"

"I've fallen in love with so and so"

"I'm leaving you. So...what do you want to do?"

That sign did not judge me. It waited patiently while I found the effort to begin again. And again and again and again and again...

The one place where I needed no one to understand me, because I found me. At the stop sign.