My friend and I took a back way to Paneras for breakfast, using a new road that zigged and zagged through an expanse of flat field before ending in a parking lot that wrapped around the strip mall from behind. Surprisingly, the sharp turns unsettled my sensitive inner ear and motion sickness set in with each bend.
Why the turns? I asked. No hills, rock outcroppings, streams, nothing necessitated the erratic course. The black asphalt looked as though someone had painted it with a fat brush and jerky hand across a huge, pale canvass of dying weeds. How much easier to lay two lanes straight and even.
They’ll probably fill this field with little shops and restaurants, my friend replied.
The shops would have to be small, I thought. On the other hand, I dont see the big picture. The road was like life, taking turns and changing direction for no apparent reason. By this time next year, no one will remember what the field around Paneras looked like before our consumeristic lifestyle ate up one more parcel of rich farmland. Life takes longer, but eventually, I will look back and see how its crooked lines wrote straight, forget the motion sickness and confusion, and wonder why I couldnt trust the sense of it all along.
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