Deep Thoughts

Some days make me want to live in a coastal town in Maine. Or better yet, a tiny island off the coast of Maine. Or better still, a tiny island off the coast of almost anywhere else but where I am.

When I’m sitting in traffic approaching the Lincoln Tunnel–only a couple of miles away from my destination (work) and Google maps tells there’s still another thirty minutes to go on top of the thirty minutes I have already traveled, I cannot help but wonder why I must continue to forge ahead. Turning around would be so much easier if only there were anywhere to turn around, which sadly, as my car crawls at a turtle’s pace along the infamous “Helix,” there is not.

And so instead I must stare out my window and marvel at the tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of years old rock formations jettisoning out from between the manmade overpasses and infrastructures and the bereft side of the highway. How could something so ancient and unexpected be sitting right there in the middle of all of this? From my car, I am almost close enough to touch it. Maybe next time I will power down my window and try.