what if I waved back?

It was misty when I drove to work this morning. Since moving, I have a new route that takes me to the highway on my thirty-plus minute commute. The road is usually minimally busy but not overly crowded. This morning I saw a car driving in front of me that I had noticed before. On either side of the roof of the car were two small flags, representing what must surely be the owner's favorite sports team. As the car propelled down the somewhat winding road, the flags fluttered wildly, madly, in the wind. Furiously they waved, like hands in the air crying, "Listen to me! Look at me! Pick me!" Like someone who can't sit still very well and has just become hyped up on caffiene and sugar. The car approached a red light and came to a gradual stop. The flags waved a little slower, a little slower, until with a final flutter they drooped and became still. Although they are just flags, no will or feelings, they somehow managed to look exhausted.

The flags had a minute or two of quiet reprieve. Then the light changed and the car started forward, the flags perking up and fluttering to life once more. Now they reminded me of a puppy who lays down for a short time, only to jump up at the slightest sound or hint of something going on, overflowing with energy after only the shortest sleep. Soon, both I and the car with the flags turned onto the highway and I lost them amidst the traffic and other thoughts of the day.

Now, having seen the car twice, and taking some amusement in their small but busy flags, I will look for them again when I drive to work. There's a sort of comfort, I think, in seeing someone share even a fragment of ones' daily path. Even someone I may never know.