I was riding to work this morning when I came to a stop sign. A hot pink VW bug stopped at the same time at a stop sign across and slightly diagonal from the one in front of me. I did not know the protocol. If I went first or she. Had we been at a four-way stop, I would have gone first, technically being to her right and she being to my left, depending which way the clock turns. I ended up pulling out first, but wondered if she knew either. I got a heavy sense we’d just experienced something strangely and even powerfully human, a collective unknowing. I was behind a sedan that was behind a Blue Bell Ice Cream truck and somehow the stop-sign conundrum combined with the iconic image of the words “Blue Bell” pressed on me, as if I could feel the pulse of the entire world, and by entire world, I mean this country, this culture. Like it was all upon me at once, everything we know and don’t know and all the things we feel under these thirteen stripes. It felt familiar. I believed briefly that we actually are one nation, indivisible. That actually, our lives aren’t so different and prejudices not so deep and our hearts less cold.
Happy Friday, wishing rest as always for your weekend.