One of the things about blogging is that occasionally you can do a little self-indulgent interior-monologuing:
We were bombing down the interstate the other day, the Mall Diva in the driver’s seat, cruise control, good visibility and dry pavement laid out straight in front of us just the way the engineer drew it up. We were going fast, perhaps a little faster than allowed, but the road appeared to roll by langourously with the green highway signs occasionally marking progress as the numbers to our expected destination got steadily smaller.
Life is often like that. It goes by fast, but you get so used to it that you hardly notice. The signposts — birthdays, events — come and go pretty much as expected, letting you know you’re getting closer to whatever is ahead, and large sections of it (at least when you get to be my age) are flat and straight. Every so often, though, you come to a curve; a big, sweeping change of course. You’re still on the same highway, still going the same place, it’s just that this is “the way” and you follow it as the compass (and sometimes your tummy) swings around. It’s not unexpected, if you check the map you’ll see that the curve is clearly marked, but you might be surprised to find that you’ve come so far, so soon.
It just takes the slightest turn of your hands to stay on course; similarly a simple thing, such as a short conversation, can mark a turning point and the familiar road starts to look a little different. Our family swept into one such curve the other day. I’m talking about life, not the highway, but the natural inclination is still to let off the gas a little, slow down, maintain control — if I were in the driver’s seat, that is.
All in all, it’s a good thing, but — sorry to be a tease — I can’t write any more about it at this time. Actually, I think I’m going to write plenty (this, for example) as I sense that a very philosophical vein has been tapped; it’s just that I don’t expect to post any thing further about this particular subject for some time. Everyone is well, everything is secure — did that last sign say anything about there being a rest area up ahead?
Back to other blogging nonsense tomorrow.
I hate when you do this!
I take from this that Mall Diva must be a pretty good driver. If you have time to wax philosophical and let your mind wander to the deep things in life while your daughter is driving, that’s a good thing.