I'm not sure when getting from Point A to Point B got so arduous, but somewhere in my mid-twenty's it did. I remember when I first got my drivers licence, I could hardly wait for an opportunity to drive the car. It was new, fun, and exciting, but that wore off with traffic and busyness and just life. Driving became a part of life, not because I wanted to do it, but because I had to do it to get from Point A to Point B and C and D...
The other day I was out of eggs (Gahhh!) because I had forgotten to buy them the day before when I was grocery shopping with a car. And I needed them because, well, I bake...a lot...and I was on a deadline to bake somethings for friends as gifts. So, I dropped off the Big Guy at school, left the Little Guy with The Artist and set off for the grocery store...in the fog.
Then something happened. I don't think I have ever enjoyed the fog as much as I did that day. It was quiet and still and cold and wet and I was a part of it. And it got me to thinking about how rushed I am and though the day before I had been warm in a car, I did not really enjoy being in that car. It was just a means to an end. And there I was cold and wet and loving every moment of the whole experience. It was like being a kid again when you had moments of your life where time stood still. I must say it was pretty addicting.
Enjoying the journey. Huh, what a concept.
