So I met a friend for coffee the other day. A friend I haven’t seen in a while. Life kind of got in the way of us getting together, well that and occasionally an ocean or two and a few thousand (give or take) miles. Now with this friend, let’s just say we clicked right away. I’m not sure how or why, but we just got each other from our first meeting. It was like we were always friends.
While we were having coffee, well technically she was having a tea latte of some type while I savored, or is that devoured, a coffee, we caught up on missing time. You know all the usual stuff, except her what’s new news was that her husband was dying. She didn’t lead up to it, didn’t soften the blow, just told me that he was dying and had a few months at best left.
Usually this is news you come up to in some what of a gentle fashion, or at least a slow lead up. But she felt there was no need for it. How she told me wasn’t going to change the fact he was dying. It wasn’t going to ease her pain or her loss either. She felt it as a raw open wound every moment of her life and she let her way of telling people be just as raw. It wasn’t mean. It wasn’t deliberate. It just simply was the way she said it.
She said that she learned that she had a need for speed these days, every second she spent on the road away from home was a second she’d have less with her husband. And yet, here she was, spending time away from him because life does go on doesn’t it? She found that with her desire for speed in getting back to him she also no longer considered things in the same light. A speed limit shifted from a hard fast rule to just something that was placed on a road. It didn’t’ take into account driver’s skill or the car’s performance. She also no longer worried about driving as fast.
Basically she was far more willing to take risks these days if it meant more time with him. And in having a higher tolerance and acceptance to taking risks, her frustration level with the slower, more cautious people was growing to the point of no return. And still she sat across from me, having a tea latter while she explained all of this to me. Her anger, her frustration, her despair all tumbled out and onto the table, along with a speeding ticket.
The ticket, she told me, didn’t really matter. Not in the big picture. She was certain there would be more of those as time became more valuable. She was positive there would be one for the drive to the airport for their final vacation. The type of vacation where only one person comes back in the same state as they left.
And then she would have a different need for speed. Speed would be important to get past those long and lonely hours. What she would be running to I wouldn’t be able guess. What she would be running away from? Herself and an empty house.
We visited far longer than I had thought we would and when I got home I looked at my four-footed companion in wonder. Marveling at her ability to simply live in the moment. Maybe if we figured this out the need for speeding would be less.