the path through life

A 550-kilometer solo car journey doesn't improve my mood. Only the thought of meeting old friends brings a smile to my face.

Packed, I climb into my old, worn-out Ford. After leaving town, a woman hitchhiker appears around the bend.

To my delight, we'll drive the entire route together.

We drove constantly, talking, negotiating turns, occasionally arguing. Sometimes we had to stop because of disagreements. I never thought it was possible to become so close to someone in seven hours. You let someone into your car, and within a few hours, they're so close to you that the mere thought of their departure makes you breathe faster. We talked about everything, as if we'd known each other since childhood, like friends. Even the arguments were different.

I confided in her things I'd never told anyone, things I'd always been ashamed of. This wasn't just any ordinary trip. This was the kind of trip everyone dreams of. With someone so understanding, intelligent, and with a sense of humor. I would give the rest of my life for another seven hours of travel with her. It doesn't matter where.

We decided not to exchange phone numbers or addresses. We left our further acquaintance in the hands of fate. I don't know if it was a good idea, or if we should have helped fate and exchanged phone numbers. Maybe there's no such thing as fate. Maybe it's just a fantasy, meant to go through life hoping to meet that special someone.

Someone gets in your car, you get closer, you drive a long way, lots of turns, stops, you talk about everything, argue, and then the last stop comes and it's over. You drive off in the opposite direction, and it all ends. Is this fate? Possible. Maybe it was meant to be. But I'm still waiting at the bus stop where I dropped her off, waiting for her to show up and we'll return together. We'll take the same route again.