So the other night I was on my way home after a late rehearsal and a storm was brewing. Strong winds. Lightning. I had dropped the Fey kids off and was headed north on 12th. Just past Harvey's Furniture there was a tree down blocking the left lane but leaving enough room to pass on my side. As I passed I saw a police car under the train bridge and figured out the road was blocked by another tree. I allowed for the car ahead of me to turn around and then followed suit. As I cautiously peered past the first tree to be sure I wasn't going to get clobbered I made my way around it for a detour. I politely rolled down my van window to tell the oncoming truck that the road was impassable to save him the same maneuver. I said, "You can't get through." He curtly said, "Really." A bit stunned by his response, I drove west on Seminary road the 6 blocks to 18th and kept trying not to utter the word "ass" out loud. It was way too late not to utter it mentally. I replayed the scene several times as the guy followed me home. Or at least to my subdivision. I relayed it all to Kevin upon my arrival, still a bit unnerved by the unexpected sarcasm in the midst of an obvious storm. Jerk, I comfortably thought to myself even as I closed my eyes and turned off the lights. Jerk.

Yesterday at HyVee I ran into some old friends. Standing and catching up Andy asks me why I didn't speak to him the other night. As the story unfolded and the scene replayed itself through different lenses I realized my mistake. And he realized his. He almost followed me home to find out why I didn't speak to him, thinking he had done something wrong. (Besides of course his typical sarcastic banter we have enjoyed over the years.) We had a long laugh. He was no more than a foot away from me, window to window and I didn't know it was him. I just didn't know it was him.