Drivin’, Cryin’, and Cryin’ While Drivin’

What is worse than sitting in stalled 3mph traffic on a Friday at 4pm after your last day on a job that you quit because of the traffic? What is worse? What is worse is seeing a dead kitten between the lanes as you crawl by. And as soon as you glimpse it you look away because your mind wants to rationalize it as just a poor animal that got hit while crossing the road. But this is not a road. This is a 6-lane freeway with 8 foot walls on either side. And you fight your mind because you don’t want to face the truth that your mind forces on you. The truth which bubbles up with no tact, like a loudmouth at a party. The truth that somebody dumped their kitten on the freeway. It’s the worst traffic you’ve ever seen on your drive home and it’s on your last day like a sick joke to punctuate what you already knew and why you had to leave your job with the nice people. And you think about your 16-year-old cat who you had to put to sleep exactly a week ago last Friday and you’re overwhelmed again with grief. And now you are in traffic with nothing to do but cry and think about a dead kitten whose dumping, whose death, doesn’t make any sense. The traffic makes no sense. You are now above the earth, looking down at the slow snake of traffic and it has no meaning, no substance. It’s a small tidepool in time. The kitten has meaning, yet is gone forever. But the traffic never ends and you are now flying above it all, looking for a place to land.

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