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.