Clara Kate ran down the stairs, into the kitchen, grabbed breakfast and sprinted out the door. She had taken an hour and a half to get ready for work and she was going to be late again. Thankfully, Dr. Addison was a kind hearted old gentleman who forgave Clara Kate’s tardiness time and time again. When she had heard the alarm ring, Clara Kate promised herself today she would break the habit of wasting away the day. Yet, once again, she managed to lose track of time. Struggling to shut the door, she dropped her keys. Bending down to retrieve the keys, a stray strand of her hair caught on the brass numbers on the large oak paneled doors. She let out a small yelp; today was not going to be a good day. Finally, she managed to slam and lock the door. Hurrying down the front path, she looked back only to see her golden hair delicately dangling from the brass numbers on the door. Three thirteen. How could a number that held such stature, especially here on Quincy Street, cause her such distress?
As she walks to the clinic, Clara Kate stops briefly to retie her shoe, carefully setting down her brown lunch bag on the sidewalk. Quickly righting herself, she snatches up the bag and scurries down Poplar Avenue. Just as she is about to cross H Street, the dampened bottom of the bag gives way, spilling the once meticulously packed teriyaki stir-fry down the front of her puce scrubs. Today was really not going to be a good day.
Dashing across the street, having decided to ignore the stain on her freshly washed scrubs, Clara Kate finally reaches the Good Samaritan Health Clinic. Racing to the door, Clara Kate trips over the old, blind man’s copper bowl. Thinking she had dropped spare change into his coffer, the old man chants something nearly inaudible. Something about “the truth with all its power lies inside.” Clara Kate quickly sets his dented bowl upright and slips inside the clinic door.
The morning rushes by, yet the words of the old man play in the back of her mind. She pondered, what is her “truth” and did she truly have this power inside? She knew that the words of a crazy beggar should not have such an impact on her, but then again genius and insanity are sometimes virtually inseparable. The clinic was warm, full of young, active children forced to endure back-to-school vaccinations. A fussy, old med tech, who could stand the heat and odor of humanity no longer, propped open the front window. In floated the sound of Judy Garland’s "Somewhere over the Rainbow" from the old blind man’s cd player. Hearing Garland’s clear and angelic voice pronounce “why then, oh why can’t I” once again triggers the old man’s words, “the power lies inside”.
Why was the old man so intent on reminding Clara Kate that her life was a broken promise, a road not taken? Could it be that her destiny was only just beginning?
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