Skipping stone

Lately I feel like I am a skipping stone. I never truly land, never quite drown: I just skim the top of the water, grazing the water’s surface feeling what it could be like to be here, there and over there. With each little skip and jump over the ripples of time, I awake and wonder will I sink, float or finally ride this wave in to shore?

One month ago I was thinking of leaving this country, waiting for another job to come through and take me away. Two weeks ago, I returned to Spain realised I didn’t want that job at all and that I was home in Spain. A week ago, I decided it was a good idea to go back to grad school for art. By the end of last week, I became an environmental inspector and will be climbing smoke stacks to take samples of air contaminants. Today, I sit reading Royal Decrees in Spanish and wonder where next?

All I know is all this skipping is wearing me down and I don’t feel as if I have control over where I skip to. Something started the impulse and I just have to ride it out.