Yesterday as I sat in Charlotte traffic, allowing my mind to wander, I started to think about how much nicer it would be to live in the country again. No traffic lights, no honking cars...only one or two routes to get where you're hoping to go. To be able to look at trees, and streams and notice that Mr. Sparkman had deer in his yard. It takes 30 minutes to commute to work about 10 miles from my doorstep....on really bad days, it takes up to an hour. Once or twice I've turned around and worked from home.
I sat through yet another traffic light; NPR droning on from the radio, and tried to think objectively. If there is a traffic issue on one route, I can usually find another route pretty easily. When I lived on top of the mountain, we had to time our morning commute very carefully. You had to be sure to leave before Mr. Slone (an alias, of course) had crossed over the mountain. He drove a steady 15 miles an hour at all times, all weather. Because the roads were so curvy and narrow, it was almost impossible to pass him. If you didn't time it right to be in front of him, you were taking in the world at a snails pace. It would take 30 minutes or more to go anywhere. You had time to note the trees as well as the garbage that had been dumped beside the road. You had a chance to realize that the deer in the yard were plastic (still love the "No hunting" sign), and note the houses that were being well maintained, as well as the ones that weren't. While it was frustrating to be caught behind this one man traffic snarl, it was kind of funny too. You didn't feel so pressured that you had to get somewhere, and you could see the humor of it.
Now I fight that feeling of pressure all the time. It seems like I'm always running late, and there's never enough time and energy to do what needs to be done. I don't always take time to notice when there are trees, streams and parks. I don't always really look at the public art (both good and bad) like I should. It's interesting to take a different route every so often just to note the new commercial and residential construction that sprouts up every day. But often I'm so focused on getting
there, it's all a blur.
Maybe that's what makes the mountain home...that the feeling that life is something to experience rather than a destination that must be achieved at a certain pace. Maybe I should notice what's around me at traffic lights and jams rather than wasting my energy on being frustrated about not being there when I'd planned.
Wolves, colored pencil, about 16x20", 1995
