The Right Thing.

I don't know if what I'm doing is the right thing to be doing. 

The eyes of my long deceased grandmother look back at me from a picture that fell off the wall as I wrote an email that impacted some of her legacy.  Made me pay attention.  They hold immense care.  Immense caring.  They love.  And they ask whether I know what I'm doing.  They look at me with acceptance and a polite question.  A knock on the door on a sunday afternoon, a gentle nod.  She knew what she cared about.  I'm scared that when I get what I really want, I'll realize a curse beyond my horizon line, and it will be far too late in the day to turn back home and decide that I didn't actually want to go on the trip I'd been preparing for over the last few years.  Then what will I do?