I saw you in traffic yesterday. Somehow, we entered into each other’s lives, without leaving the bubbles of our cars. We effected one another. Carried each other home with us, or at least, I with you.

I had thought you were letting me change lanes at the stoplight, escape the turn lane I had stumbled into by accident. You weren’t. When you realized my car had moved into the gap between you and the person in front of you, you threw your arms up, honked your horn. I wasn’t sure where the noise had come from. We continued in the same direction, and you continued to honk, leaving your steering wheel to gesture angrily from behind the afternoon glare of your windshield. I wondered what had happened to you that day, wondered if you felt alone, unseen and victimized by the world, by me. The thought made me sad. I have been there. I have had that rush of hopelessness when I perceive the world to not give a shit about me, about where I’m going, about if I get there safely.

You continued behind me, now pulling out your phone to photograph my car, tailgating. I pulled over to let you pass in front of me, feeling uncomfortable. When, several blocks later, you pulled off the road to park, I thought it a good opportunity to pull up to your car, apologize for upsetting you, clear the air. Left as it were, the incident didn’t seem like one that would serve either of us in our lives. When I pulled up next to you and rolled down my window, you sped off, changing your destination. So I dropped it, went home.

I am writing this because, as I said, I know what it’s like to have a shitty day, to feel like the world’s against you. That no one cares about your wellbeing, or even if you are going to arrive on time, wherever you may be arriving. I’m not righteous; I don’t think I’m better than you. I haven’t transcended anger. My fists ball up in road rage too. I don’t think that I deserve the way you treated me, or that your treatment of me didn’t effect me. It did. My veins raced with cortisol, toxic adrenaline. When I arrived home, I had to take a walk and cool off before holding my kid.

But in that moment on the road, a peaceful confrontation, apology and forgiveness, was within my power. And I felt inspired to share it with you, in hopes that it added a restorative drop to your faith in the world around you. We didn’t have that chance, and that’s fine. You likely won’t read this, and that’s also fine. But someone will. Someone who lost the last string of hope for the day when a car pulled in front of them without their consent.

And so to that someone: Maybe that person is sorry to hurt or scare you. Maybe they hope you are ok. And maybe they hope you know you aren’t alone.