so how did that happen?

I was driving home this evening, car loaded with grumpy, hungry kids, and I did it again...I just sort of blocked things out for a few minutes, came back to awareness, and had a momentary panic. For about four seconds, I absolutely had no idea where I was or how I got there. Where I was, was driving down a road I drive several times a week. But for just those few seconds, I, well, I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Well, I've never been in Kansas for more than a pass-through, but you get the point. It got my heart pumping for a moment, wondering if I'd turned on a strange road and not noticed somehow. But if I had turned onto an unfamiliar road, ironically, I would have noticed right away. It just goes to show how easy it is to miss the ordinary, the every day, and how scary it is when we realize those things aren't right there in front of us any more.

No, I haven't been drinking, and there is no need to call to have my license suspended. We got home safely and with a minimum of whining (and no wine at all, because I was, afterall, driving). But it all resonated so clearly, because it's exactly what I do on a regular basis. I wake up, I get dressed on autopilot, and I don't do anything wacky like put my bra on the outside of my clothing (not yet...senior moments are rare still), but I don't think about what I'm doing, or where I'm headed. It's all routine. And every great once in a while, I look up and wonder where I am, and how the heck I got here. How did I get to be thirty something? How did I become a mother, and oh, wow...shouldn't someone have made me take a test on that or something? How did I get to where I am in my life?

I remember the major milestones. I remember learning to ride a bike. I remember starting high school. I remember my first car. Going to college. Getting married. I remember the days my kids were born. Those are clear. It's all the stuff in between that's a blur. I look up and wonder, "so how did that happen?" It's amazing to me that the things that most clearly define who I am and where I am at this particular juncture in time are the small things. It's making a bad choice in a minor way, but learning something major from it. It's parenting day after day and not losing my temper (and I need a sign like hazardous work sites with a ____ days since the last explosion warning). It's the jokes with my friends. The hugs from my kids that I take too much for granted. The glasses of wine. The monotony of cleaning my house, and a million other little things that have led me down this road. All the twists and turns are minor, and so familiar to me. I'd notice if something big happened. Say, I won the lottery tomorrow...I'd notice. It would not slip by me. It wouldn't slip by anyone in the near vacinity, because it's hard to ignore a woman screaming and dancing naked in the streets. But...my shoe has a hole in it, and I promise you it won't bother me at all until I step in a puddle...just won't notice until there's something worth noticing.

So, if I'm driving in a daze, thinking about what I need to get done or how mad I am at a coworker, or if I should go for a long walk or skip it but also skip dinner, and I suddenly look up to be derailed by a familiar street missing a sign and am thrown into a panic of "how did I get here," it's perfectly normal and to be expected, right? (And wow...that was a major disaster of a run-on sentence.) It's admirable of me to say I'm going to appreciate the little stuff and take time to really look instead of just seeing...but it's not realistic. We're hardwired to overlook the little stuff, the familiar stuff...there's a reason we call it the big stuff. It's big. It's worth noticing. It's what reminds us of where we've been along the way. All the little road markers are no more than a green blur on the side of the road, as we whiz past, racing toward the next small thing. So, tomorrow when I say, "how the heck did this happen?" Tell me to blame it on the little stuff.