bad directions

“Which way to the junior high?” the boy stopped his bike to ask.

“The other way,” I pointed. “But I’m not exactly sure which street to turn on.”

“Okay,” he started riding away.

“Wait!” I called. “Ride up here with us. It’s only another block to the corner, and the crossing guard will know which way you should go.”

“I need to be at class in ten minutes,” he called. “I need to go.”

And then he zoomed off down a side street that doesn’t go through.

I imagine he got to school eventually, fueled on panic and bad directions.

I think about all the times in my life I’ve been at a crossroads, unsure which way to turn. I’ve needed to ask for directions more than a few times. Some have given me good advice, others, not so much. I think of how angry I’ve been at people who have steered me wrong, given me bad directions.

But have I ever considered that maybe I was just asking the wrong person?