Meeting a new face on the highway.

Get lost.
Find a new way to get home.

Find a new pathway, new roots, make new connections regarding the general context of where you live.
Find new places to eat.
Find that bookstore you were positive didn’t exist anywhere close to you.
Drive through the town you’ve only seen on the map next to your address when you’re going home from a strange place, the exit you pass every day on your commute to work.
Discover a new historical antique district town, find a railroad museum or a rusty walking bridge that’s caught your heart.

Marvel at how big the world right next to yours is.
Marvel at how big your world probably is, but you’ve forgotten.
Familiarity can feel so confining.

Sitting in traffic five miles from home isn’t so bad once you start to notice it’s getting green again.

Sometimes with the right mindset and the right music, oncoming traffic that is separated by winter trees can look like twinkling stars in the nighttime.

Sometimes on the highway I end up in someone else’s line. As other cars speed past me, I think, maybe that’s okay.

I am remembering a drive home not six months ago when I lingered in the far right lane, the slow lane, the entire trip home. There was an incident, and I had flashbacks of other times when I had to sit in such bad traffic. It’s strange the way you feel when you choose to be in that lane.

Dedicated to my purpose, I stayed. The road still brought me home.

Perhaps that is why now, when I find myself waiting in someone else’s queue, I don’t panic to find a gap in between cars large enough to accommodate the weight of my foot against the gas.

I stay, I wait, and soon my path is clear.