A Special Push

“I thought you’d be running the world by now.” His words shattered my eardrums, reverberating down deep where my soul once had been. It had been ringing in my head for 4 years ever since I graduated from college. Deep inside I held dear to the notion that all my friends did long ago: “You’ll do something great”. But 4 years later, I had failed on all syllables. Every time I repeated them, I repeated each and every failure as well. Why couldn’t I be who I was in Fargo?

“I need two TOA’s from Fidelity, ASAP” snapped me out of my reverie. As soon as I looked up the vessel carrying the voice had disappeared and I knew I must get back to the work that was a constant reminder of where my shortcomings had led me to: Financial Investment. Some would put forth the argument that this was a booming business, potentially lucrative with no limit to success. It was a great opportunity on all accounts, this was not lost on me by any means, but it was not an opportunity meant for me. People nowadays can’t understand this concept. Just because something is “good” does not mean it is good for the specific person. I knew I did not fit in here and I was also heavily aware the others knew, too. I had always had a knack for gut feelings and intuition. Even when I stepped in for my first interview, I knew something wasn’t right. I fought that feeling but I wouldn’t have done it had I known it was the beginning of losing who I really was as a person. In the end, that's what we all do isn't it? Sacrifice who we are for what we should be?

It was no wonder I was depressed at my 'great opportunity for a job', every day I asked myself, “What am I doing here?” I’d allow it to smother my thoughts in my head but no response was met. I had strayed so far from my passions that I had lost sight of my very reasons for pursuing them. With that, losing sight of my purpose completely.

Every morning I woke, I wished the day away, asking God to speed time so I could get through the daily embarrassment I felt with a little more ease that day. It was an embarrassment that spanned multiple planes. Letting everyone from my past down, my family, and most importantly myself down. I had become what I had always despised about people: I wasn’t kind, I absolutely settled, and I wasn’t doing great things. How do you live with that every day? I wasn’t very good at it to be honest and to be frank my strength was waning. My face could no longer keep the mask up beneath that fake smile. I would break before that mask did, not because I was strong, but because I had pride.

A voice deep within the murky waters of my soul whispered once in a while and that whisper was enough: “Everything you touch will turn to gold” I had heard this from a psychic three years ago and since then it had been permanently etched into my mind. As silly as it was, I clung to it. It was my beacon of hope that one day I would be kind, never settle, and do great things just as I had always planned. Just as what was always expected. It seemed everything that was touched became as lifeless as the person who touched it.

One day, I had woken up and thought, today’s going to be the day. I had this strong feeling that I would no longer be working at the firm and a smirk grew on my face that morning. It was inevitable but what happened but shocking what I got out of it. “Hey can you come with me for a minute” Becky, my ever so petulant supervisor, asked. It was quick and painless, however Becky, naturally, forgot my items at my desk so I went to grab the rest of my things. When I opened my backpack a little black book lay on top. I took it out and didn’t think twice of it once I left. It was when I came home I found it in my backpack still, as if it had never been taken out.

The days passed on and no matter what I did this little black book followed. It was as if once I began being who I was this little black book wouldn’t leave me alone, as if it were nagging me, pleading with me, but I was afraid of what it wanted because I was certain I couldn’t do it anymore. So, I decided to test it. I booked my second trip to Fargo. If it showed up there, I’d begin writing immediately. If not, I was done. That day Sarah, my vivacious, beautiful, number one fan of a best friend, paid me a visit in all of my happy squalor.

“You got fired?!” Sarah exclaimed with confusion embedded into each syllable but it was masked by trepidation in her tone.

“What...what happened?”

“She told me, ‘This is easier than having a conversation with you about being unhappy;”

“What the hell...can they do that?”

“Does it matter? I’m free. I am finally free.”

“ So this is a good thing?”

“This is a very good thing.”

“So what’s next for Danae —”

A smile tugged at the end of my lips interrupting her, “Anything I want. This is the happiest I’ve been in a long time and it’s not going to last so I am going to enjoy it while I can. So, I’m going back to Fargo.”

“Fargo? What are you going to do?”

“I’m unsure, I just know there’s something there that brings me peace. I think I’m going to start writing again while I’m there. I always erupt with such inspiration when I’m there...anyway, I keep finding this little black book everywhere I go, it’s the creepiest thing, you won’t believe it.”

“Bro, you’re a psychic ass bitch, I’ll believe anything you say even if you say you shit rainbows.” I lost my demeanor as shock washed it away..

“What?! It’s true. You always text me right when I need it, you say exactly what I need to hear because it’s like somehow you know exactly what I’m going through, and you just always KNOW. You know things others don’t. And write! For the love of God, go wherever you have to, just do what you were meant to do and write. Don’t lie to yourself anymore about who you are.” The conviction turned into a plea. A plea to accept the truth. Strange things did happen to me, I was always far too perceptive, had amazing intuition, and as we’ve seen thus far, life just seemed to speak with me somehow. As for writing...

“I’m just saying maybe this book is more than just a book,” Sarah exasperatedly expressed.

“That’s crazy.”

“Have you opened it?”

“No…”

“Why not?”

“...It’s not mine.”

“Yet it keeps coming back to you.”

“It’s not permanent.”

“But it’s yours for now. Why isn’t that enough?” Because what was the point if it wasn’t going to stay? The little black book remained on the book shelf while I left for my flight.

I entered the hotel and to my surprise, no mysterious book. I was actually saddened, not relieved by this discovery, or lack thereof. I went to bed that night with tears in my eyes.That morning I woke up to the little black book staring at me from my end table. A deep sigh escaped with the utmost exaltation. For some reason, I was prompted to think of the day I met a hawk…

I was sitting in my dark corner of the world with seclusion dripping off the sides of my cubicle when I was interrupted by none other than Becky.

“There’s a hawk on your car!”

“What?” I couldn’t hide my smirk anymore.

“Yeah, oh well it was there…” I turned to face the world beyond the glass to see no Hawk in sight. It was a bit of a bum-

“Look! There it is!” The hawk had flown close to the window, down by my car, and away into the trees across the parking lot. That has to be some kind of omen, my mouth parted.

“That has to be some kind of omen! Google that!” I shifted an incredulous stare at her while mustering a lifeless chuckle. I returned to my seat to talk to my notebook once more. I had begun writing more since my last trip to Fargo in August. Something about being there impassioned me to write; it fought off the anxiety I wrestled with in myself and it gave me the courage to pick my pen up and do what always felt right: writing. Unfortunately, as I sat and wrote, I fought myself. I felt like an imposter. A fraud. I felt like I was no longer good enough for the truest love of my life and that it had been too long to pick things back up.

I couldn’t fight the curiosity anymore. Something inside compelled me to do as Becky suggested, what I found frightened me fabulously: “ Hawks show up when you are called to complete a goal and need encouragement and strength to keep you going in your pursuit.”

Tears welled in my eyes at this memory. Maybe Sarah was on to something last night. I picked up my pen and introduced my story to the little black book. Who was I to argue with the universe?

With that, she was done. With a clasped of the latch she sat back and marveled at the eruption of creativity that alluded her for 4 years. No time was spared in sending the little black book into the competition, even if the money she didn’t win, she got her writing back in the end. This was her opportunity. An opportunity specifically for her, finally.

By next week she heard a knock on the door that triggered her palpitations. It was a stout man with all knowing eyes protected by glasses signifying what must have been his expansive knowledge.

“Ms. Danae?”

“Well, that’s my first name, but yes?”

“Oh, my apologies! I hope this makes up for it.” He ushered her a folded piece of paper as camera crews and a news anchor stepped out of their shadows.

“This is...this isn’t..” motioning to the folded piece of paper. The stout man nodded so voraciously that she swore happiness itself would pour out of his ears. Hastily, the paper unfolded in her hands and there it was $20,000.

“Ms. Danae, what will you do with it all?”

“I can’t believe it...I already won when I submitted it…”

“What? What do you mean?”

“ I mean...I’m going to be kind, never settle, and do great things.” The flashes continued to burst in her eyes like a kaleidoscopic array of imminent power.

I thought you’d be running the world by now echoed in her mind. A tug of her lips showcased her smirk.