The Definition of Fate

Chapter 8

The horizon leans forward,
offering you space to place
new steps of change

- Maya Angelou

There's something peaceful about driving alone with only the highway for company. My fingers strum the leather steering wheel to the lilting notes of Iron and Wine, and I lose myself in the yellow stripes, the trees that fade to oblivion beside me, the rush of cars all around me.

Life seems to pass me by at the same speed, existing just outside of my peripherals, unnoticed. I'm so caught up in my path, my route forward, that I'm oblivious to everything outside of me, the people, colors, moments that make life itself worth living. I miss the doe and her fawn that gallop through the wheat field, the faded rainbow that paints the sky after rain, everything. So much exists beyond what's directly ahead of me.

This new start is my chance to change myself and my perspective. I can't keep living in this mire of discontentment for the rest of my days, lost in what could have been and what was, losing sight of what could be. Perhaps happiness has been one block away, waiting for me if only I'd look around.

I sigh and turn up the air conditioning in the Ladybug, knowing it won't do any good. Dad follows me in his F250 stacked high with hand-me-down furniture and too many boxes of books. I stare at the road and watch as the Welcome to Ohio sign appears before me. I hold my breath as I cross the state line. When will I be home again? Who will I be when I return? I pray I'll be someone different. I'm not sure I can be this girl anymore.

The drive to Columbus is about seven hours long, give or take a few minutes for pee breaks, gas station stock-ups, and my inability to surpass the speed limit by more than five miles per hour. Every ten miles or so, Dad calls me and tells me to speed up, and I make some snarky comment about the significance of the word "limit" on the speed limit signs.

As I drive, I wonder if I'm making a huge mistake. I'm leaving my comfort zone behind me, but what if I fall again? When Josh and I broke apart and Gramps died, I was fortunate to have my parents to catch me and try to reassemble the pieces, turning me into who I am now, but I don't know if I can go through that again. What if I hate my new job? What if I find that life in Columbus is just as empty and monotonous as live in Allentown? What if the problem has less to do with my surroundings and more to do with me?

This is why I shouldn't spend so much time by myself, I muse. I think too much. I reach for the stereo and scan the radio, relaxing into an upbeat Meghan Trainor song. She doesn't care if I'm screwed up as long as I shake what the good Lord gave me. I start to dance in my seat, singing along at the top of my lungs. I'm way too old for this, but who cares? At least if I'm singing, I don't have to think about the bottomless black hole that is my life.

I'm so preoccupied singing along to the girl-power-anthem that I completely miss the guy in the Rav4 who drives in the left lane next to me. He laughs at me through the window, ignoring the line of cars in the fast lane behind him. I glance left, and when I catch his eyes, my face turns bright red. Of course someone saw me. The guy's mouth falls open as he speeds away, still laughing. I sigh and sink back into my seat with a giggle. At least I've managed to entertain someone in my delirium.

The last few hours of the drive pass by in a music-induced haze until we reach the outskirts of Columbus. I can see a handful of skyscrapers that line the two rivers at the center of Columbus, and the entire city seems to glow with the verdant greens of early summer. The highway slows as rush-hour traffic merges on and I eye Google Maps. The apartment I'll be sharing with Chloe and our other roommate is located in a section of Columbus called the "Near North," just outside of downtown. Chloe already spent twenty minutes on the phone rambling about the amazing coffee shops, museums, and vintage stores within walking distance of our apartment. I can't wait to explore the city.