Prudence

I've been in a weird place the last few days. Wondering what awaits in the future and how I will go about getting there. This isn't the first time I've been in a funk for no apparent reason. I remember when I came back from my Aunt's funeral I spent the next week reorganizing and painting in an attempt to preoccupy my mind with the simple task at hand half hoping that the answer to a puzzling question would magically pop into my mind and half hoping that the problem would disappear if I continued to avoid it.
For the last few days, I have found myself in the office doing summer cleaning. It had been on my list of things to do for months now, but I had always pushed it off for another day. After two full days I had filled two garbage barrels and broken the paper shredder, but at last everything had a new home and I even found my passport. Next on the list, painting the office floor a beautiful shade of cement gray. First coat is down and I'm starting to feel better. After I finish painting then I will move onto tougher decisions.
It hit me today as I was painting in the office, I was avoiding answering the same question I had been asking M all those months ago. I was fearful of telling the truth because it wasn't pretty and also because I just wasn't sure what the answer was. I now wonder if M ever knew the answer to my question or if he too had simply been avoiding responding because no words would make the situation better.
I feel myself being pulled in two very different directions and I'm at a loss. Cold feet and prudence peeling away the romantic illusion. Have I become to cynical to ever believe there once was beauty in his words?
Kate