I don’t do it intentionally. Heck I don’t even “look” for these things to consider or write about (stop snickering now). They just pop into my head. Boom! Like an explosion of an idea. Kinda like when Einstein realized relativity was E=MC2. I’m sure he experienced the same thing, BOOM! And now everyone knows who Einstein is. Now probably fewer could explain the E=MCsomething. Yet his “boom” of an idea is now for history to pen. Huh, I guess we’re like two cast from the same mold. I’ll start working on that Nobel Prize acceptance speech just as soon as my assignment to pen this blog is complete.
You ask how I equate us two geniuses together? Easy Peasy, we share the great experience of naturally coming up with random things to write about or, as I like to say, ponder. However, I do concede my ponderings will have littler affect on the scholarly work of millions to follow. So Einstein has a little on me. I really don’t try though, they just happen. These ponderings of mine. Maybe it is a gift. Maybe it is a curse. It wasn’t too long ago Mrs. Johnson thought it was enough of a curse that I needed to sit out in the hall at Lindale High School and ponder my last laughical outburst I had just subjected my classmates. So now it’s your turn. This month’s ponderings, potholes.
Yep, those crazy, annoying, tire killing, deeper than the Grand Canyon divots in our county roads. See, it was just the other day I was on my way home, Sally and Sarge beside me, that it dawned on me. I was driving so slow that both puppies jumped up from the three minute slumber riding home. They thought we had arrived. My slowness in speed to them, usually mean we were on the homeward stretch (also known as our driveway) and they delectable dishes of dog food cuisine awaited them. When the two realized I wasn’t halfway up our country road, they both stared at me. I could see it in their mugs, “what in the world is taking you so long to get us home”. As I apologized, my pondering poked me in the eye.
As we made our way up the county road at an unnecessarily slow rate of travel, I comforted them and helped them enjoy our time a little longer. Sally came and sat on my lap as I drove and Sarge looked at the cows in the pasture. What was happening? What ponderings could possible come of this? Easy… take a guess what the potholes made me do? I bet you can. Yeppers, they made me slow down. And at that very moment, I found myself more appreciate for them making me slow down than trying to make a mental note to call Todd our County Commissioner and complain about the mammoth monsters in the road. That day at that moment, it wasn’t about being in a rush to get somewhere or do something, it was about driving a little slower and enjoy the ride a little longer.
Though I could get philosophical about my potholes and go on about the potholes in life should be appreciated because they make us slow down and enjoy life more, I won’t. I won’t simply because I believe that message is more blatant than noting and your intellect is far more perceptive. So as I conclude this evening, know that I never made that call to Todd, I’ve just chosen to drive a little slower these days and enjoy my potholes a little bit more than before.
And to your assignment, next time you see a pothole, slow down. Slow down not so much as to avoid tire tyranny but to enjoy the ride more. Life is fun and is much more fun when we slow down to enjoy it.
Thankful for potholes!