Stopping Traffic

It’s been a while since my last post. I guess that’s the fallout from summer, a lot more time with kiddos and a lot less time to myself. Lacking energy = lacking inspiration. I’m hoping September’s return to structure will change that.

In that vein… I was driving the other day, a dreary Sunday morning with a relevant date (9/11). I had awakened early that morning, and watched the last 15 minutes of the 10 year memorial broadcast, including photos of the children who lost their father’s before they were born, images of people pencil rubbing the names of their lost loved ones, and a choked up Diane Sawyer recapping the day’s events. Needless to say, I sat in my sweats in front of the TV blubbering.

A couple hours later, kids were up, fed, dressed and with Daddy, and I was on my way to Bar Method for my Sunday morning respite. Car windows down, taking in the fresh air, and processing the somber morning, I sat dazed at the stoplight, prepared to enter the on-ramp at the sight of green. Through my fog, I noticed a woman arise from the pole position driver seat. As she walked slowly toward the back of her car, I thought there’d been a fender bender, but her casual stroll was lacking the requisite urgency. As my eyes left the red light and focused on the woman, I noticed she was talking with the driver of the motorcycle behind her.  Trying to formulate a story for this twosome, I figured she forgot to tell him something before they left house, and that she’d promptly hop back in the car and go before the light changed. I was wrong. The signal turned; the chat continued.

A felt a tinge of frustration watching this unfold. The driver behind me apparently shared my frustration (and then some); he peeled out into the left lane and darted back right in front of the woman in a grand “F-you” maneuver. Ordinarily, I might have moved around her as well, or maybe offered a polite toot of the horn, but this morning I didn’t. I was intrigued by the interaction in front of me, and the apparent calm of this woman coming between 12 drivers and their freeway required destinations. I felt a little longing: how nice her life must be to feel no sense of urgency. The green light taunted, but - perhaps because my eyes were still puffy from the memorial, my heart heavy from all the facebook posts, and my sense of compassion more inflated than usual - I waited. Maybe the day’s anniversary reminded the woman that life is fleeting and people too valuable to be taken for granted. Then, right there in the middle of it all, it happened: a traffic stopping kiss.

With a gentle smile I thought, “how sweet,” followed by, “would I ever stop traffic for a kiss?” Those who know me can quickly and accurately answer “no way in HELL!” I’m a rule follower, after all. But on that morning, I felt a twinge of regret about my hyper-responsibility. I wondered how often I had missed traffic stopping opportunities, kisses or otherwise. Times when I was too busy getting somewhere or doing something productive to hold things up. As I watched, I wished for traffic stopping capacity.

Out of my head and back to the road, I watched the newly iconic woman slowly return to her car, again lacking urgency. Split seconds after her driver’s door closed, traffic flow resumed. I knew I had witnessed something monumentally important (and I had found my inspiration). I snapped a few photos of the motorcycle man (imagining a face that launched a thousand ships – type title for my newest blog post), but the mysterious and artistic juxtaposition of the Yamaha and leather jacket against the city skyline translated to a .jpg with nothing but blurred pavement and light (damn camera phones). I pondered the upcoming blog post all morning, touched by what I had seen. There was something I really wanted to share, but I was still uncertain what that something was.

Arriving home after my workout emotionally exhausted, I napped instead of posting. Then I moved into my week, starting with my son’s first day of kindergarten the next morning. It was an emotional roller coaster. I felt excited that school was in session and my days were again my own, proud yet sad that my little boy was growing up, melancholy following the 9-11 anniversary, and disappointed following news of five different crumbling relationships in three days time. 

At work I had one couple breaking up before even starting counseling and another on the brink. As the second told their story with resentment layers deep (all so common and relatable given their years of marriage, child rearing, etc), I thought back to the couple on the road, making the time for affection. Then I heard three different stories of friends or acquaintances with news of betrayal – relationships fractured by lies, gambling, cheating. For a moment, I spun in hopelessness thinking, “Are all relationships doomed?” Again, the couple on the road came to mind. On 9/11, the story I created for myself was that this was a young, new couple, certainly not more than a decade in. Of course they’re stealing public kisses, that’s what you do when you’re newly in love. Then I thought, what if they’re not newbies? And even if they are, couldn’t us decade-ers learn a little something from them, maybe follow their lead? Maybe that’s what makes relationships last: an unwillingness to go without a kiss, even when it’s inconvenient… stealing a kiss even when it’s no longer full of novelty, tingling and wonder. A kiss used to be the physical manifestation of being turned on, expressing: “I’m into you.” Now, it’s about creating turn-on in the midst of monotony, expressing: “despite it all, I’m still into you.”

I think of my life now, the focus on self-preservation that comes with two kids under six, my ensuing frustration with tasks interrupted, bedtime postponed and wasted energy. I reflect on the complacency that comes when you’re with someone for more than a decade, “knowing” they’ll always be there, taking it for granted, anticipating a partner’s next move before it starts. Familiarity, predictability, comfort. I remember those early days when I would have willingly talked (or whatever) into the wee hours, even if it meant facing the next morning on five hours of sleep.  Those days are gone… Gone???

A few days later, I was neck deep in evening chaos: making dinner, calming kids, tidying up, and undergoing the first week back to school fallout. There, in the middle of bubbling pots on the stove, oven shrilly buzzing, and kids talking at me from opposite directions, my husband unexpectedly pulled me close and kissed me (maybe his own response to word of all the crumbling relationships). Ordinarily, I would’ve met him with a quick peck (admittedly a little annoyed at the interruption) and moved on. That day, I thought back to the woman and her motorcycle man, and my monumental lesson was learned. There in the buzz of our kitchen, I realized I do have the capacity to stop traffic! So that’s just what we did.