Your Almost

I spot my car in the crowded parking lot. I press the button to unlock it, but the key isn’t working. I try again and again and still nothing. When I’m standing right in front of the car, I realize it’s not mine.

The car is the same color, make and model. From far away, it looks like mine.

The car doesn’t have the same scratches on the passenger side door as mine does. My son ran into my car with his scooter when he was in second grade. The car was parked on the side of the street and he got too close. He thought it was funny. 

Colorful air fresheners hang from the rear-view mirror of the parking lot car. The tinted windows, the same ones my car has, make it impossible for me to see this from far away. My car does not have colorful hanging air fresheners.

I find this same theory is true with finding friends, a job, a romantic relationship, clothes, and even a restaurant. 

A new friendship may seem fun at first, a new job may sound like a good next chapter, a new romantic partner may be easy on the eyes, the newest style of jeans may look great on the rack at the store, and a new restaurant may smell delicious when you first walk in.

But the closer you look, you realize something is not quite right. It’s not yours. It’s your almost.

The new friend is lovely, but there’s not a lot in common.

 The new job is a great opportunity, but the commute, hours, and the chaotic environment will be a total drag six months from now. 

A good-looking new partner is exciting, but your values don’t exactly line up.

Mom jeans make you look 15 pounds heavier and like you have no torso, but hey, everyone is wearing them.

All your friends are raving about the food at the new restaurant in town, but it doesn’t taste good and you have to choke it down.

 Now you have a choice to make.

Take it anyway even though it’s not yours. It feels so heavy to start from scratch … again.

Or be willing to walk away without knowing exactly what’s next.