Commute.

Anyone who really knows me knows how much I hate Hempstead Turnpike. For those of you who are not familiar with this wretched pathway, it’s basically the ugliest street on Long Island. Completely commercialized and concrete. Very little greenery. Also apparently quite a death trap for pedestrians. During rush hour, it could take six hours to travel roughly a quarter mile. At least that’s what it’s feels like.

Also, despite being three lanes wide each direction, there’s simply not enough space for all of the cars that need to be on it for one reason or another. During my drive home it’s just a mess of cars trying to merge onto Hempstead Turnpike from the parkway, and cars trying to cut people off so that they can get on the parkway, and cars desperately trying to make a U-Turn even though no one seems to want to give an inch to let them in. Me included. (Hey, it took me 20 minutes to get that inch!)

I realized today, as my car crawled along at a pace of a millimeter an hour, that sometimes my brain feels sort of like Hempstead Turnpike. On an average day I have a million thoughts fighting for space in my head, coming and going, when I can really travel one path at a time. And in the end it sometimes just results in ideas just not getting the space they need to go anywhere. Sometimes a life can feel a little too much like a traffic jam, especially when I’m stuck at behind a wheel or behind a cubicle. 

When you’re forced to be still, though, you notice things that you wouldn’t otherwise. You can witness the leaves literally starting to fall from the trees. You take note of how the clouds reflect in the tall glass windows of your office building. You realize that these are annoying vehicles surrounding you and stalling you are driven by actual people, separate yet connected, traveling on the same path as you, at least for a little while.

I prayed an entire rosary and wrote an entire blog post in my head before I even hit Newbridge Road. I also realized that I've been engaged only four months, even though it feels like four years, and I still have thirteen months left of engagement to go. Meanwhile, I am the most impatient person in the world (as you can probably tell due to my hate of traffic).

Yet. As with every commute home. I just have to have faith that I'll get there eventually. And try to enjoy the ride as much as possible along the way.