A couple of days ago, driving from New York City to my home in Woodstock and stuck behind a bus, I started hearing weird metallic sounds coming from my engine.
Ouch! I was already paying thousands of dollars to my son's orthodontist and had zero interest in shelling out more for an unexpected car repair.
The more I drove, the louder the sound got.
I looked at my dashboard, expecting to see red lights, but everything seemed to be fine — more proof, I thought, that the strange sound coming from my engine was so expensively undiagnosable there wasn't even an indicator for it on the dashboard.
The closer I got to the bus, the louder the sound grew.
Then it dawned on me.
The sound was coming from the bus, not my car. The sound wasn't mine. Somehow, I had adopted it, took it in, gave it shelter. But it wasn't mine. It didn't belong to me at all.
That grinding sound I hear in my head? The worries about money? The distractions that steal my focus and make me think there's something wrong?
All made up. Not mine. Time to let them go! Time to pass the bus! Time to enjoy how smooth the ride home really is.
Illustration by Sara Shaffer.