Passing Through

This morning my son drove us as far as his high school.  Farmland where cows and sheep graze on summer days, were white and empty save the long shadows cast by early light.  Usually the driver, I realized how much I must miss keeping my eyes on the road.  Trips carry me from point A to point B with little time for quiet observation or the road side picnic. I'm always on a schedule.

When I was little and automobile gas was cheap and plentiful, the family piled into the car and we would just drive usually to no place in particular.  The car seemed to mindlessly take us to Old Orchard Beach to sit on the sidewalk bench, eat pizza and watch the tourists clog the sidewalks on their way to or back from the stretch of sandy beach.  Other times we'd end up on country roads, not quite sure how we got there  we would help our mother navigate the car back home. Those days stretched on forever.  Carefree, the windows rolled down as we sang at the top of our lungs.  

Sometime in the 70's, we no longer took long leisurely rides.  Long lines at the gas stations caused by world crisis made us suddenly aware of our excessive ways on the road.  I took to walking and riding my bike. Economically, it made sense however I missed the spontaneous, zany trips to nowhere.  If only I could slow down and not race from one place to another.  Walking forces me to slow down and notice the world as I pass through.