This is not the story I meant to tell

It is not necessary to stick with the story we thought we were telling.

We may begin painting a horse and realize it's actually a zebra after all. Or a unicorn. Or--how did that happen?--an eggplant.

We may start confidently down the path of a story and find ourselves dragged off by the hair, into a meadow full of marmots and lupines. "But I thought I was going to the lake," we may say. "I packed for the lake. I can see the lake in my mind." And yet here we are, staring at marmots and lupines.

It's okay. They're beautiful, too.