The intersection where my twins' friend lives used to be dangerous. Every month there would be a crash, often waking them up from a dead sleep. One time a car went careening across the road and smashed into not one but two of their cars.
Things have calmed down considerably since the installation of a stop
light.
There are roads that accrue more damage than others. But we manage to modify our diligence accordingly. Cruising along on a straight, no access highway on a sunny afternoon takes less concentration than navigating the Holland Tunnel on Friday at
suppertime.
At marriage group this week we talked about patterns of conflict. One couple described their ritual around packing the car for vacation. First she freaks out, overpacking and stressing about what the kids will need. When she finishes he gets upset trying to make it all fit into the trunk. Then she can't understand why he is being so unreasonable. The angst bounces between them like
switchbacks.
Another couple's eyes got wider. This was news to them, that they were not the only ones to struggle to get out the door for what was supposed to be a pleasant getaway. She would ask her husband when he wanted to leave.
"7:30."
She would try to adjust her preparations to be ready, but he would inevitably be pacing by 7:15. Eventually, with some cost to their peace, she learned to shave half
an hour off of his announced departure time.
While we enjoyed a good laugh about our predictable foibles, I have a feeling that all of us will be a bit more prepared the next time we pack for the shore.
