Where have these last days gone. More than a question, it's a statement. So no question mark. But there is something that marks the passing of time. Decisions and crossing bridges. Since coming back here where I feel more at home, I've thought of where I might work. But something in me keeps me from getting even close to the work I used to do.

I applied at one place, but while filling out the papers already knew I did not want to work there. So what have I been doing? The answer is I'm not sure. I do a lot of introspection, and if I'm still feeling the way I do, after more than two months away from work stress and burnout, doesn't that tell me something. (There's another question that really is a statement) Nursing is needed and noble, But after twenty years of it, I want no more.

A few days ago I checked with an old employer. I've been gone from that work a long time. But the thought of it still lures. When I'm with someone who works in psychology, I still get a wistful wish to be back in it. So a few days ago I went looking for it again.

At the first office in the Mental Health Center I was discouraged when they told me they no longer hire LPN's. But I remembered that they use psych. clinicians so asked directions to the general personnel office.

As I left the nursing office,I almost brushed into other people while looking for the elevator. A big yellow arrow led me to where it was. Inside as I pushed a button, I tried ito ignore dsappointment and self doubt. The elevator seemed to take so long I closed my eyes, and said some prayers. "Lord, I don't know if I'm in the right place, but I can't keep doing what I'm doing. It is getting too hard".

The door opened but no one I could see got on, and I continued: " If this is where I 'm suppose to be, somehow make me know." I feel like I'm on a suspended bridge, not knowing which way to lean., or if I should get off. Lead me to the doors I need to walk through, and if I need someone along, won't you send them too."

She was sitting at her monitor working on something. A little row of fresh veggies lay on her desk, lined up neatlyand resting right beside a stack of papers. Baby carrots and grape tomatoes and some green things the only sign of neatness on that desk. "My kind of person", I thought, and relaxed a little.

She wasn't unfriendly, she was just seriously trying to get some of those veggies down, and waved me to a chair nearby,where I sat quietly so she could. When she stopped chewing I told her I'm a nurse, but have psychiatric experience and a degree in psych, and I mentioned I'd worked before there, but a long time ago.

She fed my social security number into her monitor, and right away it showed my history. I was surprised. and told her so. "Oh sure", she said, we keep records a long time and yours are still good". At that I let myself hope a little more.

Before we were done she had outlined how each thing to my credit worked for me now. But that wasn't the end of our encounter. "You would qualify for better positions,." "Look, this is the pay difference, if you had a Masters degree."Have you thought of that?"

In my brain I was back ten years ago, or more, to one of the few poems I'd tried writing then. "BEACH WALK". Reading it years later I could clearly see depression, and an almost giving up of dreams . Without commenting on her suggestion, insead I asked a question idling in me. "Is there an age restriction for working here?" "No", she said, "we don't discriminate., and added, "I saw you downstairs as you left the nursing department. I could tell you were disappointed".

Gathering several job descriptions and her card, she wote down notes about me, and my phone number, and gave me application forms. When I asked for extras she smiled, and gave me more.. I knew what she was thinking. Scattered desk people understand that trying to make one nice and neat, I might mess up a few.

I had taken enough of her time, and left. Already I was wondering where my psychology books were. Hadn't read or studied them in years, but wouldn't get rid of them. An old fire in my belly nourished long ago encircled me again, and and rose. The elevator ride back to the main floor ended quickly. No time for lengthy prayers . But when I got to my car I leaned my head on the steering wheel, unable to drive away until I talked to Him.

When I packed for the move back here I went through stuff several times, each time parting with a little more. But there was one psychology book, each time I'd pick it up, and start to put it in the discard stack, I could not throw it away, and kept it back. It is exactly what I need for brushing up, reviewing. That one will have its own place on my new shelves.

Driving home I'm thinking which college should I call first. Are there newer more innovative schools , and oh Lord, I wonder how much math's required. But not today. Today's the day to bask in it, to take it all in, crossing a bridge suspended from my past.

The Mental Health facility many years ago, was an army post. Its Southern influence remains,Stately, though old. What once was officers' quarters are still painted like back then. Red brick buildings with white trim silently speak of yesteryears. The parade grounds let ancient trees one might imagine saluting stay and grow. The buildings are old, but well kept. Many kinds of care and rehabilitation go on here. This kind of work doesn't appeal to many, but is so needed. I can't wait to get started again.