it was bound to happen.
i drive one hundred miles, six days a week.
i have a habit of setting cruise, singing loudly, thinking deeply, and spacing out.
so it happened.
i got a speeding ticket. a warning actually. could you see my hands shaking and the lump in my throat, mr. policeman? thanks for noticing.
i also got reprimanded for not yet updating my driver's license to reflect my nebraska residence.
[it was a good morning, let me tell you.]
but it got me thinking.
ever since arriving in middle america, i have been sprinting through life. i haven't been taking in the scenery. i haven't been appreciating the beauty of snow sprinkled fields. or the sunrise. and the sunset over I-80. i haven't noticed the beauty of nothing. for miles. i'm speeding. and spacing. and dying to get to my final destination.
ever since arriving in middle america, i have been holding on to memphis. i haven't changed the presets on my car radio - i still yearn for the blues. i haven't gotten a new license. maybe part of me is still at 72 south arcadian circle. so, tell me, mr. policeman. what does one do if their mind remains in memphis but their existence moved north? does that really require a new piece of paper? my heart is in the slow lane.
C and i talk about living with one foot in and one foot out. we have a habit of taking one step forward without ever planting two feet in the ground we have been given. it's a nasty habit. but it also promotes growth. and change. and big dreams.
"yes sir. i will be sure to slow down. thank you, mr. policeman. really. thank you."
i'll let my heart catch up with my head.
but buckle up, because this journey has only just begun.