A Loaded Question

I've been telling a lot of lies the past few days. I don't want to, but I get the feeling that the people posing the question don't really want the extended answer. Besides, I'm not even sure if I could return a completely honest response to their inquiry. Instead, I give the obligatory reply and we go on with our lives. In unspoken agreements around the Western world, lightweight answers are given to loaded questions every second of the day.

I appear to be calm and confident. Truthfully, God grants me this unearthly sense of serenity as I slip down His slides and climb His ladders. Moving to Bolivia, I am brimming with anticipation. Pressing on, I strain my neck to see what awaits me. I am the yellow marker, sitting near the fold of the boardgame.

Yellow is the hue of fear and cowards. I do not live by a spirit of fear, but I do live through moments of it. Pain punches my core as I ponder the separation from neices and nephews. Tears terrorize my composure when I wonder too long over the "what if's" of certain relationships. Lingering too long in any of these prickly places, draws my knees to the floor, begging God to restore in me a serene spirit.

No surprise that the reply to "How are you?" is reduced to "Good." and "No complaints." Our real response is normally reserved for a few. Why am I posting my heavyweight answer to a loaded question on a public blog? I suppose I tire of semi-truths. So, tell me, how are you?!