Honking or Car Dancing?

 

Someone behind me honks impatiently.

Apparently, they haven’t looked to see a woman in the crosswalk.  Turning left would be illegal and possibly deadly right now.  I’m not moving.  The woman in the crosswalk is moving very slowly.  I didn’t know you could move that slowly and not fall down.  The weary walker is about my age.  She wears a uniform like the kind the clerks wear at Safeway or at Subway some place that starts with a capital ‘S”.

My slow woman is lost in thought.  She doesn’t look happy.   I can only imagine what her day has been like.  Honking seems so unkind.  I glance in my mirror at the honker behind me.  A young and pretty face is scowling.  Great way to earn a few early wrinkles, I think to myself and then smile.  It’s better than thinking, “What a jerk!” which is what I often think if the truth be told.   Today, I’m practicing being mellower. . . Yes, I still have to practice.

Recently, I’ve become very aware of how impatience affects me in a negative way.  I remind myself that no one put me in charge of the world today, let alone Vancouver, Washington.  I don’t have to correct the wrongs of others or make sure justice is served.  All I have to do is to make way for a weary worker trudging across a road and to momentarily protect her from little-cutie-wrinkle-face behind me.

Finally, the slowest woman in the world is safe on the sidewalk.

The impatient female driver behind me honks again as if to say sarcastically, “Thanks for taking so long!”

As I accelerate to match the posted speed limit, I look in my rear view mirror and the impatient driver  is at least a block behind me.  She is looking down as if she’s texting.

“Why was she in such a hurry?”

“Let it go,” I tell myself.

My son has plugged his MP3 player into the car tape deck.  He pulls up “Gangum Style”.  At the stop light, the kids and I engage in some good old-fashioned “car dancing.”

The woman in the next lane looks over at my son.  His hair needs a trim and the curls and extra body gives him a bit of a wild look.  His head bobs to the music.  His arms punctuate the air.

Shannon says, “Andrew, that woman is smiling at your car dancing.”

Car dancing and smiles are a lot better than scowling and honking.  That’s how I want to roll.

“Play it again, Andrew!”

I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.

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The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
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