drive

I drive to work, the grocery stores, the gym, my friends' house, home, through roads with dozen of trees lined up as if to greet me, around corners of small and large gas stations, along the country side of wheat and grass, and of course, pass by hundreds of cars, all the while in a dazed and dream-like state. While floating through my subconsciousness, I find myself wondering the people I drive by everyday.

Years ago when my parents drove me everywhere, I would stare and observe the people in their cars. They would either be eating french fries, fixing their hair, drumming to the beat of their music, and once in a while, I would be lucky enough to catch an argument being played out, or a quick kiss exchanged between a couple.

I wonder where they're going. 

That woman probably needs someone to talk to. 

He's probably a hero to someone, and I don't even know it. 

Who are you? What do you have to say about your life? 

Is your destination where you want to be?

The people in the cars are no longer human, and becomes what they are driving once the petal is pushed. It would take some kind of coincidence for me to collide and meet them. I don't mean a car accident, of course, but some kind of wonderful accident. So many people in this world that I have never met, and yet I probably pass by the same people every single day. Each one has a great story to tell, I bet.

I probably drove by my future husband today, and didn't even know it.