Driving is a singularly mind-numbing chore.
Especially when you are tired.
I was driving home from the Kamloops airport a few days ago. After seven hours of being in the air or sitting in airports, the two-plus hours drive back to Lone Butte seemed endless.
It probably did not help that I had been sick the night before and was operating on three hours of sleep.
Not a great way to end a wonderful week.
I was feeling grumbly and miserable and, truth be told, a little bit sorry for myself as I really didn’t want to come home.
After mentally dismantling the airline industry for making my 2.5 hours of actual flight time from Regina to Kamloops take up an entire day, I suddenly realized my phone had a three per cent charge left on it and was in immediate need of some juice.
Which led me to forks in the road.
The first time I drove that route I almost got tricked into turning left at the junction onto Highway 99 from Highway 97 north of Cache Creek.
The jeep’s GPS really wanted me to take the left-hand “fork.”
Thankfully, the GPS on my phone (which hadn’t uttered a peep the entire trip) chose that moment to wake up and yell at me ‘go right’.
On this trip, my faithful GPS warned me well in advance that I really did want to stay right and we sailed on past the junction.
But it left me thinking about forks in the road.
What would have happened if I had gone left instead of right that first time?
What happens to all those roads not taken?
What if I had gone to law school when I graduated?
Would my life have been different if my parents named me Janet after my mom’s best friend instead of Fiona?
Where would I be today if I had finished my degree in biology instead of switching to graphic design?
Who would my kids be?
Our lives are a series of these forks in the road. We weigh the odds and then make the decision to go left or right.
From the time I was little, writing has been the one thing I wanted to do more than anything. Why did I never pursue it? I don’t have an answer.
I pondered this as the jeep ate up the miles and the lights of Lone Butte and home grew closer.
I’m not a believer in pre-destination but as I pulled into home, I couldn’t help thinking I am right where I was always supposed to be.
fiona.grisswell@100milefreepress.net
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