Geese
Today, on my traditional route, during my routine travels, in transit with my mind running in another direction, my car stopped short as I came upon backed up traffic on a small side street. Thinking it may only be a truck slowly turning into a narrow driveway or a delivery trying to maneuver East Providence’s serpentine roads, I wasn’t immediately vexed. Although, I had hoped this stoppage was only temporary.
My waking day and the hours prior had vexed me enough. I descended to a point where I couldn’t comprehend my life nor what I was doing. Like some abstract on some gallery wall that someone admires that seems so otiose. Purposeless. A mystery to never be deciphered. It looks like a waste of materials that somehow managed to hoodwink a handful of people to appreciating it. Yes, this was an existential crisis of the most extreme, a bi-monthly occurrence for me.
As my car slowed behind the halting crimson lights of another’s vehicle, I saw that cars coming from the opposite direction were also at a standstill. And then I saw what was causing this traffic.
A formation, single-file line of geese were crossing the road, from right to left. Adult geese followed by their poofy, grey, awkward, and adorable offspring, seemingly aware that while we were waiting, there are rules of the road, and we can’t wait forever. Their pace was steady, cautious, and synchronized.
I started crying.
The world spirals with us. And even if we aren’t consciously thinking of it, we feel its tilt. We can’t turn off the world at our finger tips - every tragedy anywhere in fifteen second blips, and no matter how short, sears into our mind.
But here, on this side street in East Providence, if for a brief moment, we as strangers could slow down and halt together, collaborate on a single thing that is undoubtedly interrupting us, but seemingly worth being interrupted for. This single file of creatures making a safe passage from right to left. We paused our worlds, held our travels, waited for a flicker of a moment to collectively care about something.
As the last goose made its safe journey to the other side of the street, we all continued on.
Me, eyes puffy now, glanced to my left as I passed, and found the gaggle continuing on a dirt path I had never noticed before, despite traveling down this street over a hundred times. The path extended toward the woods, likely toward the bay, as if this trail was carved just for them and they knew their destination was waiting.