We all travel in wandering directions. Each of us has our own path set out in front of us to follow. We you get into a car, people, in most circumstances, have a destination. Each morning, millions of people commute to work, school, appointments, etc. Very rarely do you cross the path of an unknown person more than once. But on the rare occasion that you do, how much attention do you pay to that? Very little.
My sister has an orthodontist appointment this morning, and in light of my inevitable tears this morning after R*****’s funeral, school wasn’t particularly in the cards for me, so I am traveling with my sister and grandfather to her appointment in West Reading. My grandfather will drop us both at school after we stop at McDonald’s for breakfast. While much of this information seems unnecessary, it is relevant to where I’m going with this.
As we pulled off of my street towards the main road, a truck had come over the mountain, which is a popular back route in my area. I didn’t take notice to the fact that we were traveling in the same direction as this truck. As we were driving down the highway, I think it was Route 73 onto the bypass, I notice this same truck in front of us, driving rather frantically. I guess this story doesn’t have much of a moral, but I took great interest in this. It’s funny how the same people cross paths accidentally, even if it’s in a no-contact situation. I suppose this could also relate to R*****. As I travelled in my own wandering direction this morning, we passed the funeral home where R*****s body is lying right now. I was half compelled to say “Hi R*****”, but I didn’t. I suppose I didn’t want to scare my family.
Instead, I look up at the sky today, and say hello. Because I love him, and I miss him, and I just want to say hello.