Intersection

That feeling. It drops on you. Slowly. Unexpected.

You’re at an intersection. Traffic is heavier than you expected. There were other routes you could have taken. You wouldn’t normally have taken this route, but for some reason, out of the blue, you made this decision and uncharacteristically stuck with it. Cars are piling up behind you. You can see silhouettes in the mirror, but no faces.

You fingers tighten around the wheel. You had purchased the little rubber grip thing for the steering wheel for just these types of times. The ones that are impossible to put on. You made a couple of haphazard attempts, discarded it for a while, then one day at the car wash you found it underneath the seat and finally took the time to put it on. It comforted you when you were making the long commute. When your fingers were tired from work. It looked sleek. Like it was designed for your car. Little grooves wore out in the back edges. When your fingers got sweaty.

Now, as your fingers run over the grooves loosely without turning, it maddens you.

You inch the car closer to the intersection even though you know it won’t do any good. It may make the people behind you a little less irritable, but won’t get you through any sooner.

The repetitive inching holds off the horns for a moment.

The honking starts gently.

They can see the traffic. What is it they would have you do? Having a head on collision isn’t going to get them home in time. There will be an investigation. Police cars and a wrecker. Ambulance. Statements.

In your head you say, “F**k them.”

Your stomach doesn’t quite agree. It feels like one of those little styrofoam cups filled with worms that they sell at the bait shop. It’s churning.

Your fingers are working on their own. They adjust the mirror. Your eyes glance up. You can see the face of the person honking now. Somehow that makes it worse in your mind.

Your fingers shut the radio off. It needs to concentrate.

Other cars start honking.

Several moments pass. Traffic clears. You speed out in a small hole and make it safely across. The hole was smaller than you ordinarily might try to sneak through, but it was enough.

You look back and you can see the car behind you will be stuck there for a while. In your head you can hear the sound of horns honking behind him.

You turn the radio back on. It’s your jam. You’re singing along. Your steering cover is the greatest thing on Earth again.

You get that little rush of adrenaline. It feels good.

You wipe the sweat off your brow.

Somehow, even while you’re singing, you sort it out.

You didn’t make a rash decision. You didn’t let your body take control. Our bodies tell us all kinds of things. When to act. When to do the right thing. How to keep us safe.

You didn’t speed through the intersection because of any of those reasons.

You knew, despite all the feelings, the social pressure, reasoning, logic, and tension, your heart would tell you when it was right to make a move.

You listened.

When we get through all the other bullshit, ignore all the outside f**k around s**t, we’ll be okay. When our hearts speak to us, we need to tune everything else out.

Our head. The worms.

In the end, it is the only path to happiness.

That is what makes us human.