Suddenly the road did not make sense as I headed home after dark.
It’s one thing to see your landmarks, knowing you turn left at the stop sign, turn left again after the tracks and then the first right that slides off the road like a mini exit, but once night falls those cues disappear. I turned on roads that seemed familiar but weren’t. Finally I turned into a subdivision, stopped.
I did not like my fear, or how I felt frail and old, or how my sense of direction and the many times I’d visited this place failed me.
As a young person, I thought nothing of driving to a dog show in a strange town, sometimes returning after dark. I looked down on old people for their insecurity.
But now that I am in my sixties, I can empathize. I am disoriented, feeling like a teenager in a body and mind that promise to fail.
There is a darkness rising on the horizon -- blue and purple -- somewhat beautiful, that I will need to find a way to navigate.
I held Siri and spoke. “How do I get to McHenry County College?” She said, “Turn left on Country Club road.” A map that moves as I moved lit up my phone.
I took a deep breath and followed her directions, though I didn’t know how to shut her up when I found my way.
I’m Katie Andraski, and that’s my perspective.
