Directions

“Turn left at the field of basil.”

“Tom’s house is just past the one with the fake lighthouse in the front yard.”

“The surf shop is around the corner from the mini mart with the shaka mural.” Time and again friendly folk have given me detailed directions better than any Google map.

Yeah, I take wrong turns. Or do I? Here’s a woman-run gas station without the surly clerks the phone led me to. And this dirt road? Leads to an un-human-inhabited stretch of ocean where I bodysurfed this morning.

Sometimes I think I’m heading one place, like the grocery store, only to find myself eating savory gorditas at a roadside stand. Sometimes the place you end up is better than the place you were going.

Slow down and LISTEN. The directions always come.