To The Drivers’ Wave

In Texas, it’s so subtle, you might miss it.

The driver in the lane next to you is going to let you over. She is driving with one had on the top of the wheel and when you pull in front of her, she raises four fingers up but keeps her palm pressed to the wheel.

“You’re welcome,” she’s saying, efficiently as possible.

As the driver who has just been given this small gift, you should briefly wave back, a small single swipe across the air.

Transaction complete.

I don't really know if the other driver is a man or a woman, his or her approximate age or if there are passengers in the car. I have no idea where the driver is headed or if the car is even from my state. Other than vague details, like maybe color and type of car, I don’t even pay enough attention to notice the make and model.

But I know this year has been complicated for both of us. For all of us. I know there has been pain and loss. There always is. Every year. Though I don’t know it’s measure, I’m sure it’s there. We both have regrets and felt moments, however long or short, of peace. Something we believed in was shattered and something else was affirmed.  And now, today, our paths are meeting right here, going 70 miles an hour on I-77. 

     May I?

     Go ahead.

     Thanks.

     Sure.

And we both look for our exits.