I commute about an hour and 15
minutes to and from work Monday through Friday.
My drive is, for the most part, pleasant. I live in New Hampshire; we don’t have the
horrendous traffic that other states have, generally speaking. But saying
this, I do hit a little pocket of traffic each day, more so at night than in the
morning. It is the kind of traffic that
even with you anticipating it; you still go from a healthy 55 mph to a
screaming stop in 2.4 seconds. And I hate it.
And every day I grumble about this inconvenience and vow to figure out a
different way home that won’t take me too far off course.
But am I in that big a
hurry? No, not really. Some days I am rushing to get home to run
someone somewhere, but most days I am just driving to get home, nothing more.
And am I tied up for ½ hour or greater?
Honestly, no, not even. It might
be a 15 minute delay, that’s truly it..
So why does it annoy me so badly?
Thinking back on it, I can only assume that it is because it is
something that I don’t want to happen and when it does, I get annoyed and yes,
sometimes I pout. I had a plan laid out and
this was a deviation from my “perfect getting home for the night plan”.
Something as simple as traffic
patterns made me realize how many times we lay out a plan, perfect in our mind
and then how often something happens to derail us from our anticipated
completion. As adults, we normally have
to smile and move on, maybe sometimes we hide in the bathroom and throw a minor
tantrum.. How many times have we had a
perfect birthday party, outing, or even holiday mapped out and then the reality
is anything but. We are
disappointed. Sad. Sometimes angry that the pieces didn’t fall
into place the way we WANTED it to be. And
rather than stop and think, wow, even though today might not have been great,
it wasn’t horrible; we tend to focus on what went wrong. Not: Gee, I did still spend time with people
I love and that’s alright in the grand scheme of things. That even when it all
and out SUCKS, it was still time spent with family, with friends, with a roof
over our head, etc. That, wow, our “failure”
(our word) is still better than other’s “successes”. We don’t do this. We are disappointed; we let it ruin the
event, the day, the situation.
Yesterday Gabe had to come to my
office as he didn’t have school. At
almost 8 years old, he’s easy to have at work with me. I can plug him into a computer and he gets
free reign at his games without having to share with his sister. I don’t bother him. I leave him alone for the most part and he
loves it. Once in a while I feed
him. People come into the office and coo
over him as some of my employees have been a part of my world since before Gabe
was a baby and they remember him. Sometimes
I stalk him and take charming pictures of him in his awesome office swivel
chair. He tolerates my interruptions and
the day goes on.
He, like most children his age,
is obsessed with Minecraft. Digressing a
bit from my original point, I have to share a lunch outing we just had. I met a friend with a 13 year daughter for
lunch. As we sat at the table waiting
for our food to arrive, Gabe and this young lady had a full on conversation,
one people who finally meet after chatting online for months would be jealous
to have, about Minecraft. They volleyed
back and forth, sharing information, secrets, tidbits, and any other little
nugget of excitement that only a true fan could appreciate. My friend and I stopped talking and watched,
amused, at their exchange, one that erased an almost 5.5 year and gender
difference. And while, yes, Minecraft is
screen time, I am realizing that it is oddly social as well in that they ALL
talk about it. Even shy children have
something to say, to add to the conversation, something others WANT to
hear. It’s kind of cool.. It lends to the ability children have to see
past obstacles and find a common happy note and run with it.
Back to my original point---Gabe
has been asking for a box over the past week to make something to put his
Minecraft books in. He wants them to be
showcased in a special manner, away from the other items in his bookshelf. These books are with him all the time. They are, I’ve learned, a MUST have item,
well sought by his peers.
I found a small box in the office
and he happily set to work cutting it apart to create what he had in his mind’s
eye. He conquered my horrible office
shears (NOTHING like the awesomeness that my sewing shears are) and taught himself
how to successfully manage my tape dispenser (the end is sharp! And the tape can bounce out…something I take
for granted having used it for years). He
pieced his project together for about 45 minutes. When he was finished, he proudly showed me
and went to get a book to demonstrate how it works. His creation was not only too narrow, it didn’t
hold due to the scotch tape being too weak for the cardboard.
It collapsed. He looked at me, devastated. Truly disappointed that this masterpiece he
designed in his head didn’t work. He
grabbed up the pieces of cardboard and threw them away. He gave me back the scissors and tape. He looked at me, and although he was clearly
upset and wiping his eyes a bit (oh, pierce my heart! Honestly, he tried so hard), he says, OK, so
that didn’t work…but that was still kind of fun. I can see what I can do the next time, let’s
figure this out. Can you help me?
YES.. yes, dear child. We can figure this out. We can regroup, come up with a plan, and try
again!
And so, tonight, while I sit in my traffic,
rather than find annoyance that my plan was changed, I will accept and be happy
that it gives me a few more minutes to listen to the radio and sing loudly and
horribly to my favorite songs. The next
time I plan it out perfectly at work, for a birthday party, for a holiday, for
my day off; I will remember that some of the best things in the world were a
result of a “mistake”, a deviation off the plan. And I will say, OK, so that didn’t work.. but
that was still kind of fun.
