CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE: SOMETIMES STUMBLING MAKES THE TRIP MORE INTERESTING

The other day I got to hear a man talk about walking around the world all by himself.

The man, Steve Newman of Ohio, walked from his hometown east until he'd crossed five continents.

He'd always wanted to make the trip, and one day, he just did, even though it took him four years.

Newman learned a lot of important lessons, and while he made it home safely, he made it clear that the journey itself was much more important than the destination.

Being a destination-minded woman myself, Newman's story got me thinking about the different kinds of journeys that we all take.

I had to go to Jefferson City recently on business.

If you've been there, you know you can see the Capitol building from the bridge as you enter the city. It's a big stone building with a dome on top at the corner of Broadway and High streets. You can't miss it.

But at 8:30 on a rainy morning, I was standing at the corner of Broadway and High streets, looking around for that large stone building with the dome on top.

I stood there for a few minutes, bleary-eyed and half-asleep (keep in mind, I work nights) and wondering how in the name of God our crack lawmakers had managed to relocate the Capitol overnight.

Then the caffeine kicked in, and I realized the large stone steps I was staring at probably led somewhere important.

Sure enough: At the top of the large stone steps was the big stone building with the dome on top.

Somewhere out there, one of you is thinking, "Lord love a duck; does the woman want a flashing neon sign?"

Well, yes.

There are a couple of lessons here. First, I have no sense of direction, and shouldn't be allowed much farther away than Jackson.

Second, sometimes it takes a set of big stone steps -- metaphorically, at least -- to realize you've reached an important destination, even if you didn't know you were looking for it.

Unfortunately, not all life-changing moments are marked by stone steps or marble statues or even flashing neon signs; most of the time, they aren't marked at all. Somewhere down the road, you realize something happened, and your course is forever altered.

A few years ago, I had a falling-out with a woman who'd been one of my best friends since junior high school. We'd roomed together in college, she introduced me to my first serious boyfriend, we finished each other's sentences.

We haven't spoken in four years, and probably never will again.

A few days ago, I ran into another old friend from high school who was here in Cape for the day on business. He started chattering away about high school and mentioned Lorie, and asked how she was.

Awkward silence, then a brief explanation.

For a long time I was angry at Lorie, and I carried that anger with me every step of the way. But I realized, talking to David the other day, that I wasn't angry anymore. A little wistful, a little sad, but not angry.

I have no idea where Lorie is now, and it doesn't matter, which is something else I've realized in recent days. Our paths diverged, and we travel separately these days, and that's fine.

Newman learned what a wonderful place the world -- full of love and kindness and friendship -- on his journey, and I've learned much of the same on mine.

With the occasional reminder we all make mistakes. But that's part of life, and sometimes stumbling makes the journey more interesting.

Wherever Lorie is, I hope she's well and happy, as I am. We both have lives to get on with.

And what a long, strange trip it's been.

Peggy O'Farrell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.