Knowing Myself

The red SUV sped almost past me on the right side of the freeway in rush hour traffic. Then, almost as abruptly, slammed on their brakes and slowed considerably so that their vehicle stayed parallel to me. The driver grinned at me and the passenger leaned way forward to peer around her and grin at me, as well. Then they sped on and pulled in front of me. It was then that I understood their bizarre behavior.

See, last October, after I had made my six-week-long trek through the Nile, I came out on the other side feeling very disoriented and disillusioned and several other "dis"s. For all of my life, I have not been one of those people who chose to adorn their car with bumper stickers or window decals. Ever. It just wasn't something I was into. That is, until last October.

I was wandering aimlessly in my car one fine autumn day last October with my Auntie, Mother and Daughter. It was a gorgeous day and I made a split second decision to veer to the right and parallel park in front of a store called SpellBound that I have been eyeing, but have not found (made) the time to stop in. It seemed that that day was better than any and without causing much whiplash devastation to my passengers, I stopped.

We walked in and I found myself in one of those places that feels like my home away from home - the air laced with the smell of nag champa and various other incents. The lights bouncing off the crystals and gems. The luxurious appearance of shimmering-velvet capes and swords and wands. It was like walking into a magical haven. I love finding places like this and I can generally wile away many hours in these places.

"Oh look!" Mom said, calling me over to the rotating rack. "I dare you to get these!"

(editorial sidenote: keep in mind that, just four days prior to this moment, I had moved into my highly-religious father's domain.)

I glanced at the two bumper stickers she held in her hand. I read them both, laughed right out loud, promptly grabbed them out of her hand, took them to the counter and purchased them. I never once thought, "I don't like bumper stickers."

It seemed that, after my personality-altering bout with the Nile, purchasing those bumper stickers was the only thing that felt normal to me. Placing them on my bumper was the only thing, in six weeks, that had made sense to me. The messages on them were the only thing I could relate to, that felt right.

And that red SUV that was playing looksie with me on the freeway the other day? This was on her bumper:

I laughed all the way to work. I forgot that I had publicly outed myself, which is something I have the opportunity to remember frequently with random encounters on the road such as this. She was just another of my kind trying to say hello. Such a small world.

(ps... Juls... I can hear you "tsk tsk"ing from here. LOL I know that you loathe these bumper stickers. *sigh*)