It's the Little Things

This ordinary world is the bubble that holds us still. We can't see past routine, the days of our lives. We think we're safe, but we never realize that the bubble could break. And we would fall, but only if we recognized the signs could we have avoided the holes that pull us down, tear us apart. It's the little things that blink warning, an alarm clock screaming, and your gut turning, but in this ordinary world, wrapped in our cocoons do we shrug it off. And we walk straight into the arms of danger, into a moment, where everything could end.

I'll never forget 2001. Most of us won't. 9/11 tore into our hearts and soul, but there were two other personal, almost tragic events in my life. One could have easily been avoided, if I had listened to my gut, but I allowed my father to talk me into going to my internship at Cable 6 News on that day. The other was a simple dentist appointment, so what could possibly go wrong? I ignored the signs. I ignored my intuition, that little voice that jumps up and down in the back of your mind. I paid dearly for that.

Everything that could go wrong on the day of my dentist appointment did. There were so many signs, but I ignored them all. My gut twisted and turned. Cancel the damn appointment, my mind screamed, but I was stubborn. And I was late. I was fifteen minutes late, but I made my mother drive me into Harriman anyway, where the dentist office waited. And I was turned away. I should never have gone.

We were on the side road, turning left. The road was clear, so my mother went. The next thing I know is that we got slammed. We got slammed so hard that the car spun wildly around, and we almost drove straight into a deep ditch. I hit my head so hard against the window on the passenger-side door that it cracked. My mother was stunned, but thank God, she was not hurt.

I jumped out of the car, screaming at the guy, who now walked toward us. I had my mother's cell in hand, and I called the police, not giving this idiot the chance to run. He didn't ask if we were okay. He just glared at me, at my mother like it was our fault. He acted like this was some kind of inconvenience to him, but maybe this asshole should not have been speeding. Lately, there seems to be an epidemic of them, and I'm playing Grand Theft Auto in real time. But back then, the drivers were supposed to play safe, and he didn't. And he could have killed us.

The EMT's wanted to take me to the hospital. At that time, I had no insurance. I was paying out of pocket for the dentist appointment. I declined, and my mother was able to pull the car out of the ditch. She drove home, furious, and I didn't blame her. We should never have gone to the dentist. The signs were there, the little things that told me that something bad was going to happen. I didn't listen. I shrugged them off. I could have died, but instead, my hands went numb. My body tingled, and I started to fall asleep. I recognized these signs as a concussion, and I wound up at Arden Hill Hospital later that night. I was scolded for not going with the EMT's initially, but I was still treated for the concussion. And I kicked myself hard for being an idiot, thinking that my plastic bubble would protect me from harm. That bubble has broken so many times that I should have known better. I should have listened to the little things that tried to deter me from the path that I was walking along.

You have to wonder. Is there a plan for us? Is there a plan for our life, our future? If something bad is about to happen, are the signs in place to make us turn around, and do we listen? Do we understand, or are we stubborn? Do we do what we want to do, no matter the cost, and how high is the price for our stubbornness?

David Norris had a plan. He had a mission. He was going to change the world. A rising star with a tragic past, his future gleamed with promise, hope, and inspiration was the wings of beauty touching his heart. But love came with a heavy price, a jagged puzzle piece that cut into the plans of those with higher authority. He was torn in two between chance and fate, but his life was not set in stone. But would he remain stubborn, chasing the destiny he wanted or the love that slipped through his hands, or would he surrender to the plan already written, never to fill the void deep within?

This is our life. This was his life. David knew what he wanted. He knew who he loved. Why did it have to be so hard? The little things for him were not of warning but of distraction, trying to keep him from her, but chance had her own plans in motion. Despite the risks, he tried, but the Adjustment Bureau remained in step, haunting his endless chase. Would they win in the end? Was their plan for his future the right path to walk, or would love conquer all? Would love save the day, giving his life a chance for a new beginning?

Life is a funny thing, and we take it for granted. We hold to the bubbles that keep us still, thinking that it would protect us from harm, but life has no guarantee. We never see the day, where the bubble would break, and we would fall. We rarely get a glimpse at the clockwork of destiny, the doors to fate. We just take one step at a time, walking the path under our feet, but do we see the signs, the little things that would change the course that we follow? Do we listen, and what if we don't? Does our life rest in our hands, or is it part of a greater plan? And do we want to know what that plan is, or do we want to believe that we are the architect of our fate, that we are in control? And do we still want to take life for granted, enjoying the beautiful days, and praying for the darkness to never rise again, consuming all that we have dreamed and all that we have built?