We sat at “The Sandbar” restaurant, overlooking white sand and breaking waves, while hiding from the onslaught of August’s sunshine. Somewhere between my Island Salad and my Chicken Quesadilla, I noticed two dark slits just a few degrees above the horizon, with a foggy gray haze below.

I watched them endlessly–Drew barely able to maintain a conversation with me.

After bringing them up about a half-dozen times, he gave in and we settled on the fact that they were helicopters. Hovering. Slightly moving, but mainly hovering.

Of course, when he stepped up from his seat, ready to leave, I couldn’t help but steal one more glance out the window.

He appeasingly rattled off:

“They could be armed forces, running a mission.”
“Or coast guard, saving someone.”
“Or scientists studying something.”

I was satisfied, and we left.

And, I couldn’t help but think: That’s me. That’s what I do when something in life doesn’t make sense to me. I think about it. I talk about it. I stare at it. I practically study it. I don’t like it when things don’t make sense. I will make them make sense, even if it’s wrong–if I’m wrong. I’d rather have order and reason than have chaos and irrationality.

But, I’m learning to accept that some things don’t make sense. Some things just are as they are. And there’s no way to change them or understand them. I’m getting there. Slowly.

But, in the meantime: how do you handle the things of life that just don’t make sense sometimes?