The space between

I returned home tonight--the hour not light, not dark, when everything is hard to see. Rain fell, and the clouds were pushed by the wind as if being told to hurry up and go somewhere.

It's hard to find parking in the city--almost impossible on a Saturday night. I circled the streets over and over, and as I watched cars pulling out and pulling in, my frustration grew.

"It's just not your turn, Katie," I said--something my mother told me to remind myself of when those spots, one after the other, seem to elude me.

It's just not your turn.

I continued driving and was aware of the moment I slipped into self-pity--using my misfortune as proof that I would continue in circles under an ominous sky, unable to see what was in front of me.

I started to cry, and told myself I would always be alone, always behind the wheel--no co-pilot to help me find the way or be another set of eyes when mine were not enough.

Earlier in the day Annie and I walked through the park as the clouds darkened, preparing for rain.

"It's so beautiful," she said. "It's not warm and it's not cold--let's go the long way."

Later she reminded me that it's always sunny out--it's just the clouds that sometimes cover it up.

After circling the block for the tenth time, after watching every open space go to someone else, I was suddenly soothed.

You just don't want to wait, I thought--and it was then I decided the next time I reached my street, I would pull over.

When I turned the corner a final time, there wasn't one spot for me, there were two--and for a brief moment, in my disbelief, I couldn't decide which one to take. I could have the one slightly smaller and further up the hill--but I had a choice. I effortlessly pulled into the one closer to home.

The sun is always shining after all--it's only covered up by clouds sometimes.