The Gift of Going Back
I didn’t plan on making a second trip through the fog, but what felt like an inconvenience turned into something I didn’t know I needed.
Photo by Ben Moreland on Unsplash
Fog covered the dark highway in front of me. Condensation clung to the windshield. I ran my wipers to remove it, only to have it reappear before each swipe of the blades. Later, I learned that humidity was 95 percent, and not surprisingly, we were under a dense fog advisory.
I glanced in my rearview mirror several times. No headlights appeared behind me. A writing podcast played while I both zoned in on the message and zoned out on my cares of the day. I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel and wished the drive could be longer.
I hadn’t planned on being out that late on Wednesday night. I met a couple of friends at a minor league baseball park earlier in the evening, and shortly after arrival, learned that the field was unplayable due to rain. We decided to meet at a nearby sports bar instead.
Inside the packed restaurant, we enjoyed good food and even better conversation while watching a little volleyball on TV. Around 8:00 p.m., one of the guys bowed out because he needed to get to bed early. My other buddy and I sat there for another hour, chatting about our faith, business and whatever else came to mind.
When we finally headed for the parking lot, we stood there another twenty minutes and chatted. When connections are deep, you don’t want to leave.
I got home at 10:00 p.m. and reached for my medication, realizing I had left it and the pill container on the table back at the sports bar fifteen minutes away. I called and talked to someone there and she said someone had found it, so I got back into my car and headed back for it.
Normally, I probably would have been annoyed at myself for wasting time and gas to make the drive back, but I didn’t feel that way on this night. The extra time in the car felt peaceful. I didn’t have anywhere else to be. And nothing needed my attention. After a stressful ten-day stretch, I realized I needed those few quiet miles more than I knew.
Sometimes a disruption isn’t one at all.
I wouldn’t have chosen to make the return trip if I hadn’t left my medicine there. But I’m glad I did. Even though it made me wonder how many times I’ve complained about having to double back in similar situations. And it made me sad to think about how those complaints robbed me of experiences like I had that night.
