I’ve always been fascinated by Interstates. One lonely stretch of road, connecting Here and There. They lay wherever government planners decided- decisions made with little regard to what small towns they did or didn’t connect to the big cities. And every day you take the Interstate, you get on with a purpose, a route, a story. You take exits at certain intervals, to change roads, to refuel, to end your journey. And although it’s a reflex to peek at fellow drivers during passing (or getting passed), although you’ve developed your stereotype of the driver by his or car, although you may relate to a bumper sticker or a vanity plate, in the end you know no more of their Interstate story than they know of yours. They don’t realize you’re ending an 11 drive back to your true love – they just know they should have left for work 20 min ago.
As it is on the highway, it is in life. You don’t know why I skipped last night blogging and almost forgot tonight any more than I know why you haven’t been reading your WordPress feeds.
Tomorrow, we trek to Stillwater for the third week in a row, not for us or for the sake of going, for once, but for my brother-in-law’s graduation. As we begin our married life, he begins his graduate school career. As he revels in the freedom of summer, we make plans for front porches and rocking chairs and schedule doctors appointments. And frankly, everyone is happy focusing on their own journey.
So good night, all, and be patient on the roads. You don’t know anyone’s story.