(A Special Post for SundayScribblings )
People. The interaction. The paradoxes. The inconsistencies with us but consistencies within themselves. The attempts from us to try to merge on to their highway so we can travel in unison for as long as we choose. With most, we realize that it is time to turn off of their road.
We make agreements. We'll meet up again a little farther down the path. Of course, once turned off, their path makes a turn as we continue on forging our own new course. We think that we should take a slight detour to wander back to their path. But, in our absence, do we have any new information for them? Do they for us? We continue on with the hollow commitment to double back over on another day.
The puzzle of the meandering separate highways is too complex to solve.
Concurrently, we travel the parallel highways of those closest to us. We take a different path but we keep them in sight. They are our frontage roads. If the street we travel becomes too full of traffic and too congested, we know we can make a quick turn at the next crossing and ride on their thoroughfare for a bit. There is no puzzle to those closest to us.
But for the very closest, there is a constant puzzle. In the words of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, "I know her so well that she is a complete mystery to me." The ultimate puzzle.