The Best Possible Outcome

It was a tough week at the old salt mines. I’ve been working with an organization undergoing a substantial amount of change and while we are getting clearer on the need for processes, not so much on the outcome subsequent to this finding.

 Suffice it to say, this state of “being, or not being” does not provide one with a strong sense of accomplishment at week’s end. However, the week did end, bringing me to my blessed weekend.

 Contemplating either booking a quick transformational sleepover at the local ashram, or an intensive two-day neverending session at my gym I opted for an approach that seems to work for me: To do what was right in front of me. Therefore, I stayed the course and kept my previously scheduled Saturday morning hair appointment.

As is “per the uz” my miracle hair worker and I yakked the hours away discussing the burning issues of the day and solving the most difficult problems of our time. This included topics such as why adult dogs insist upon relieving themselves indoors when they know better, irritating people who always want to guess your weight-age-next sentence, and the unwanted appearance of ruffles in female fashion for women over the age of ten.

I began to relax, even feeling sleepy, as I experienced the “r” word (no, not retirement), as in relaxation.  During the final phase of my hair naturalization process, I decided I would treat myself to a trip to the Flower Barn for some garden acquisitions to see how long I could prolong this newfound relaxation thing.

Oh, sure, I still had the niggling feeling challenges lie ahead for me, specifically, when Monday dawns more early than bright, but hey, mirror:  Look at those stunning highlights!

Off I went to purchase posies, noting as I traveled from here to there that spring had definitely sprung with all of the gorgeous greenery showcasing its glory post-drought. Just as I was wheeling into a parking space I saw a flash of blonde hair via my peripheral vision.

In hyper mode my vision became multi-directional as I noticed simultaneously that a woman to my right was reversing her van out of the parking space, toward me, and the toddler was continuing to run, toward me. I grasped in a nanosecond the impending tragedy that would be the van, or me, or both of us hitting the little guy. I slammed on my brakes.

And you know what?  A miracle occurred, but not on 34th Street.  I stopped in time, the van driver stopped in time, the toddler stopped in time, and time stopped, just like everyone says it does.

All we were left with were a crying tyke and a crying Diane. It was in that moment I was reminded of one of those universal truths we receive so often, if we would only pay attention.

You never know what’s next; you just have to know it will be the best possible outcome. (True, it may be a matter of applying your brakes.)

Today I experienced the best possible outcome and that makes Monday’s outcome not matter so much at all.