Sunday Reflections: Conjuring Stranger Stories

I saw two scenes along the road today that made me wonder about the lives of people I do not know. It also caused me to chuckle as I attempted to fill in the blanks...

On my way to work, I was driving down Jefferson Avenue and trying to make the turn onto Oyster Point. Along that turn lane are several openings allowing cars to visit and depart the shops. In the middle of one of these drives, I saw an abandoned backpack, hat, and something wrapped in a bundle. I thought to myself that that was strange and then I saw a young boy running, a woman running after him, and a man lagging behind but following their course. As I drove past them, I saw the boy pick up the things in the road in the rear view mirror.

My mind began to conjure these strangers' story. What must have happened that this boy found his things tossed in the driveway? Did Dad get angry at someone and toss them out causing the boy to scream until the man pulled over so he could run and get his stuff? Were Mom and Dad arguing causing the boy to toss the crap out himself forcing them to focus their energy on him? Or, could they simply have packed the top of their vacation car poorly (which I didn't get a chance to see) and the things slipped off?

Then on the way back from work, I decided to take the Colonial Parkway. It takes longer, but it's certainly a lovelier road than the Interstate. There are several little pockets on the Parkway where people can park, get out, look around, picnic, etc. I saw several groups of people... I saw friends fishing, families scurrying after kids and animals, two old men hanging over lawn chairs shrinking in the sun or fatigue... but one scene intrigued me most...

I saw a young dark-haired guy sitting next to a motorcycle. He was in one of the rare coves unoccupied by other groups of people. He was completely alone and looked a little sad. A third of me wanted to be him while another third considered pulling over to ask him if he felt like I do today... and the last third of me knew that, if I were him and saw a gal pull over and walk towards me, I'd probably hop on my bike and haul out of there!

Still, I tried to fill in his story, too. Was it a romantic problem? Was he running away from work? Was he frustrated with his family? Or, had he simply biking a while and wanted a place in the shade to rest before heading home again?

I sort of hope that I'm wrong about the dramatics. I hope that my ideas are so far from the truth that, whatever awkwardness or mishap that transpired to provide strangers with such circumstances, they'd laugh if they heard what I was thinking.

May we all learn to laugh when we hold up our lives against the horrors of the human imagination. I suppose that, often enough, it could always be worse...