My husband wants to change the world, especially the highway world. Because, really, there are some pretty inconsiderate and sometimes downright terrible drivers out there. You all know this – you’ve gotten angry behind the wheel before. My husband believes that he can change the world, make the highways better and make parking lots more organized, all through his own crusade. I love him for this.
But it also leads to some tense moments in the car. Because while I appreciate that he is rightfully angry that someone cut us off on I-85 while looking at their cell phone, I still just wonder.
“What if their mother just went in to the hospital!?!”
“What if they have kids screaming at them from the backseat and are just trying to keep their cool?”
“What if they just spilled hot coffee all over themselves and are trying to clean it up?”
“What if a bee flew in?”
Because I have been That Driver before. I have been That Person on the road.
Maybe this imagination, trying to figure out what could be happening in the car, is what prompts me to write. Maybe this weirdly placed empathy comes from avidly devouring books my entire life. But I always want to see behind the wheel.
I believe that everyone has a backstory. I believe that every single interaction we have with any other human being comes with history. Even if it is a fleeting interaction taking up a nanosecond of our Earthly existence, it is preceded by a big, huge story, whether you know it or not.
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