In the Weeds

I’m in the weeds. All I see is plant life, itchy weeds and buzzing insects. There’s the damp smell of earth beneath me. I can’t remember which way to go. Can’t remember what it feels like to be any place but here.  When I was a kid, I knew exactly who I wanted to be. Maybe not the actual specifications, but the essential qualities that would compose adulthood, those were strong and certain. I would be an encourager, faithful, kind....