Staying calm on the road is not a big problem for me. It isn't because I am zen so much as the fact that I spend less time behind the wheel than some employees do trotting from their cars to their fourth floor cubicles. But I do share the street with all manner of commuters. 

 

The other day I was in line to park at the grocery store. There was a stream of traffic going both in and out, and I saw a kerfuffle ahead of me. One woman was screeching at the driver behind her, threatening to take longer on purpose. I could not hear the rebuttal as that person was not bent on being heard by everyone in the lot. 

 

I wondered if it was fun to be her. I don't mean was she bad for being rude, or was the person behind her at fault too. It matters little about victim hood, or domination. What I wanted to know, was, was it fun to be her? 

 

When she had turned off the ignition with a harrumph, yanked her purse from the seat, and headed into the store, did she leave her anger on the pavement? It seemed more likely that it sagged around her ankles, like old socks that have lost their stretch. Even the high of "winning" an argument, by which I mean you are the last one yelling, fades like a sugar jolt. Did the jagged interchange set her up to enjoy the routine of choosing cereal, and picking the best bananas? 

 

Memories of myself howling at young children to hurry up, or slow down, or stop fighting bubbled up. There were times my throat hurt for days afterward. Looking back I can answer my own question. It was not fun to be me. 

 

After the groceries were in my car I headed back toward the road. I noticed a driver who paused and waved to a young mother holding her daughter on her hip. The little girl was wearing sunglasses. Her mom waved back and they walked safely across. Such a small thing. But in that moment, I think all three of them were enjoying being who they were.