Obstacles

It was unusually late last night on our three hour trip home from the beach—the sun was so perfectly warm, the breeze so perfectly light, we stayed on the beach, hesitant to return to the unpacking of beach bags, hanging of damp towels, and closing up of the summer house.

While driving west on I-64 in the left lane, a large truck blocked our vision. Hugh let out an exasperated sigh. We drove like that for several miles, each lost in our own thoughts, our minds migrating to the workweek ahead. Finally, Hugh broke the silence.

“The speed limit is 70,” he said. We were moving along at 50 or 55.

“We won’t get home till after ten.” I felt my shoulders tense.

Hugh found an opening, moved the car into the right lane, and passed the truck.

We both smiled. The road opened up before us, melting into a blue streaked night sky with a crescent moon. Hugh switched on the radio. We both relaxed.

I thought about that truck for a moment; how we let it dampen our mood, make us anxious. It kept us from seeing what lies ahead.

Sometimes we know the obstacles in our lives, and we can work at getting around them, but other times, there’s one big obstacle that we somehow don’t see, it just stands in our way; and until the day we name it, know it, and decided how to dismantle it, we will feel that edginess inside.