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Can I please open the window? I crack it a bit to relieve the nausea. Always carsick while in the backseat since I was little, I empathize with my unfortunate children as I turn around yet again. New destinations are difficult for me. For years I ask, beg is probably a better description, for a talking navigation system and I finally have one. Still, I occasionally need to make turn arounds as the blue line doesn’t always make sense to me. Though I have never been actually physically lost, I have felt lost emotionally at times. My first experience is sending my youngest, maybe you sent an only child, to kindergarten. I need a plan. Time to regroup and find a new purpose between nine and three. When the baby heads off to college the same feeling overwhelms me. What will I do with my time? I dive even more into the family business as I feel needed there and I have no one at home waiting for me. Last summer Jeff announces he is retiring. Though he works some this year, his time involves breaking in the new kitchen counter stools. Am I ready to be done completely? Up until a few years ago, I am regularly asked if I am new at the bike store – we laugh each time. Am I that invisible? Yes, just like a stagehand, I guess. At some point the sentiment changes and people notice I am always around. I commit to three days this year, yet I feel in limbo. The job description board at work changes my name to person 2 as they search for a replacement. It is time to redirect. My artwork keeps me busy. Instead of nine- or ten-hour days on my feet, my new job description includes daydreaming, studying clouds, trees, flowers or whatever else catches my eye. With my eyes closed, I can claim creative time and my feet won’t hurt. My personal navigation system guides me, and though I still have a chance of going the wrong way, I can always try another direction.