Today, I Was Lost

Today I Was Lost

A blind woman, a guide dog, and a reminder that none of us really know the way.

I was in a hurry — late, nervous, and already half lost before I’d even left the house. I had an appointment with a cardiologist in a neighborhood called Bagnolet. I didn’t know exactly where I was going or how to get there, and I was dreading what the doctor might say.

Bus.
Metro.
Another metro.
Another bus.
My route looked like a knot I’d have to untangle before I could even worry about my heart.

In one of the metro stations, I heard a voice calling out:

“S’il vous plaît! S’il vous plaît!”

A blind woman stood there, her guide dog shifting nervously at her side. She knew where she wanted to go, but not how to get there.

I’ve done this before. I walked up and asked — in my best, not-quite-fluent French — if I could help. She was upset, probably lost for some time already; her dog was tense. She took my arm. Together we found the right corridor, climbed two flights of stairs, and I left her waiting safely for her train.

And just like that, my own panic about being lost disappeared.

You might think I felt grateful for my situation compared to hers.
Nope.
Or maybe newly inspired by my little adventure into unfamiliar territory.
Also nope.

Instead, I started thinking about what it really means to be lost —
not knowing where I want to go,
not knowing how to get there,
and wondering if I’d even recognize “there” when I arrive.

Somewhere deep in the Paris metro,
a blind woman continued on her way with a little help.

This morning, I was in a hurry — lost and anxious.
It took a blind woman and her dog to remind me
that none of us really know where we’re going.