Sense of Direction

As I am wont to do, I was in the bar at the SunSail marina some days ago watching the sunset, sipping a cold Hairoun, thinking about what a glorious adventure life is when you allow it to be, when a total stranger came up to me and asked, “Would you please tell me what direction I am facing?”

I blinked. This is surely, I thought, a surreal moment; not a real question, but an angel’s message for me.

“Well, I am facing the sunset,” I answered, “so it is my best guess that direction is called West on this planet. On a larger scale, I suppose I am staring down the gravity well of old Sol.”

“Huh… oh yeah; silly of me,” he replied, with a touch of an embarrassed smile.

“No, not at all,” I replied, “I thank you for the question. It reminded me to be aware of what direction I am facing.”

“And that is?” he queried. Now I knew for certain he was an angel, perhaps disguised as some poor holiday sailor who was about to go out on a rental not knowing anything about sextants or pole stars, but an angel nevertheless.

“If”, I explained, more to myself than to him, “I am standing in the present, I can face into the past or into the future. The direction I face is my choice, isn’t it?”

“How’s the local beer?” He replied. Maybe he thought I had had a few. Maybe he was just changing the subject. Maybe he was just thirsty. Maybe he had more wisdom to offer me. It mattered not.

“Pretty good,” I answered, ” Can I buy you one? It is the least I can do.”

“Two Hairoun please,” I told the barkeep. “Where you are from?” I really wanted to hear this answer.

“Los Angeles,” he said, without even a hint of irony in his eyes.

“I figured it would be something like that,” I said. “Long way from home then. Here to do some sailing?”

“No, I’ve come to visit some friends in Mustique. That’s south of here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that way,” I pointed, “you could see it if we were on that point out there, instead of in this bar.”

“This beer is good.” he said.

“Yes, it surely is,” I replied. “My name is Leslie. I’m happy to meet you.”

“Michael,” he said, “how are you?” sticking out his hand. We shook.

“Blessed,” I answered, “and you?”

“Yeah, I am feeling pretty good too. You live here?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Good place to live,” he said.

“Yeah man, it is,” I smiled.

God, life is such a pisser.


About Leslie Fieger

Author of several books including The DELFIN Trilogy, Your Prosperity Paradigm, The Master Key, Alexandra's DragonFire and Awakenings. Speaker; Meme Therapist and Professional Beach Bum
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