From Comfortable Distances by Jodi Weiss

one is ever going to
give you permission to slow down and take time for you, Tess—you need to give
yourself permission. Trust me, though, the world will wait—it's only
going as fast as you want it to go. You are your speedometer.”
    “If I’m my speedometer
than I’ve probably accumulated a lot of speeding tickets.” Tess laughed. “Do
you know that when I was younger, I used to day dream about walking out of my
office one day and not going back,” Tess said.
    “Where would you go?”
    “I don’t know. I guess
that’s why I never left,” she said.
    “What made you want to
walk out?” Neal said.
    “Too much to do. I’m
always rushing to get stuff done, and then there’s always more to do. I’m tired
of rushing,” Tess said.
    “You’re not rushing now.”
    “No, I suppose not.” Tess
focused on the water, the way it drifted from the shore, slowly, steadily, as
if it was in a trance.
    “I think that if you
don’t know what you seek in life, you can spend a lot of time moving in place,
or worse yet, moving in the wrong direction,” he said.
    “Is that what happened to
you?” Tess said.
    The tide flowed onto the
shore, not crashing so much as arriving. The rhythm mesmerized Tess. She
thought of something her mother used to say about grace, how it had to do with
flowing versus force.
    “Isn’t that what happens
to us all at some point?” Neal said. He stared straight ahead, his expression
calm, serene. He could have been saying anything with that face.
    “Right now, if I granted
you the freedom to do anything that you wanted to do, what would you do?” he
said.
    Tess looked into his eyes.
This man didn’t even know her. Why did he care what she wanted to do? His eyes
were so intensely focused on her that she wondered if he were trying to win her
over – or if he just sought conversation.
    “I’d be here, where I am.”
    Neal smiled.
    “Ah,” Tess said. “Right
answer?”
    “Only if it was the
truth.”
    “Oh, Neal. Truth smuth.
We barely know one another and I’m not known for spilling out my dreams to
strangers. Besides, I’m weary of people who presume that they’ve got it all
figured out,” Tess said.
    He smiled and cleared his
throat; she had amused him.
    “I don’t presume any such
thing,” Neal said.
    “What’s your story then?
You realize that you’re beginning to sound like a philosopher.”
    “I’m a simple man trying
to live a simple life,” he said.
    “I don’t know what you’ve
encountered in your life, but in my view, life isn’t simple, Neal.”
    “People complicate their
lives. I see it as a choice.”
    “People have jobs and
families and bills to pay and responsibilities—sick relatives, home
repairs—life is messy. I think that if you asked most people they would rather
not work or worry and prefer to rest on a hammock all day and live
uncomplicated lives. I don’t believe people try to complicate their lives,”
Tess said.
    Neal was silent and Tess
wondered if she had gone too far; after all, he was a new acquaintance –he
didn’t know how outspoken she could be. And yet in the silence, she couldn’t
help wonder if she had chosen to complicate her life—between her leaving
Woodstock, her relationships, her career. She wasn’t sure what her life was
now, if it could be measured in terms of simple or complicated. It was more of
a routine: she went to work, kept busy, came home and worked some more and went
to sleep.
    “We all have
responsibilities. It’s up to us to do them with a clear mind or to cloud our
minds and create drama around responsibilities. Look at the birds of the air,
Tess. You don’t see them worrying about where to live or their bank accounts.
They just coast about.”
    “How do we know they
don’t worry? Tess said. “We can’t read their minds. For all we know, they’re
just as neurotic and screwed up as the rest of us.”
    Neal laughed and smiled
at her and led the way from the docks out through the front entrance of