Driving For Answers

Blue sky meets a thousand miles of a winding road. Each curve and bend obscured by nothing but the field of limited peripheral vision and possibly the occasional tree. I used to try and count the small white and yellow lines that dotted these roads and extended to a point far beyond the horizon and even farther than that. But never got farther than lower levels of infinities that extended far beyond my mental grasp.

I sat there, wispy blond hair flowing back beyond curious green eyes and an eye-grabbing smile. Staring down at grey and black asphalt and wondering if we were the only car on this road. If we weren't the only car than were we the car in the front or in the back? Or somewhere in between? Unfortunately for me, these questions remain unanswered due to the lack of roads that really do end instead of branching off into new discoveries.

These were the roots of curiosity that would flourish throughout my childhood. Questions such as “why do clouds move?” Or “why don’t I have a twin?” Baffled me until forced answers flew out of giving mouths, gracing me with answers.

“Clouds are moved by winds Sara, pushing them to unknown destinations until they precipitate. Clouds may also dissolute in the process.”

“You have no twin for as God decided against it.”

Of course, these answers only ended up sparking more questions which I would ponder for a bit longer until answered once more.

“What does it mean to precipitate?”

“What does dissolute mean”

“Why did God not want me to have a twin?”

“Do you choose if you get to have a twin?”

Eventually came answers.

“Rain, snow, sleet, and hail. Basically, anything that falls out of clouds, Sara.”

“To dissolve, Sara."

“It is God's choice. Only he has an answer to that.”

“Of course not. But, how would I know?”

Questions within questions. All without answers.

Curiosity has been an enemy to mankind since the dawning of the earth itself. Think of Eve and the forbidden fruit. Issac Newton and falling apples. Cristopher Columbus and a new route to India.

All of man has asked questions in their life. Rather that be in their heads or out loud. Many of these questions have been answered of course, but most will remain to flood the minds of mankind until they flourish into something greater.

As an example, people understand the concept of colors. We can blend yellow and red to make orange, and a thousand other spectrums and ideas can form. But creating a new color within itself is a laborious task that only the greatest of minds can contemplate. Same with the concept of lower levels of rationalized infinity. Take an experiment that was done quite some time ago. There’s a man that runs the infinity hotel. One day the whole hotel is full. Not a singular room left. But a man comes and needs a room. So the man that runs the hotel asks everybody to move over one room to the number that was one greater than there’s. As an example, one would move to two, two to three, three to four, and so forth. After everybody moves over one room one should be open, for as there is an infinite amount of numbers. So that is where the man that originally asked for a room will stay. 

It is incomprehensible, yet we continue with our lives.

Curiosity, the mortal enemy to man. Yet we still tolerate it. Or, other people do. Curiosity and questioning nature crashing against my temples until breaking free and fluttering past my lips. Taking the form of the many questions I ask. Most end up unanswered, but the few that are answered leave me wanting more. 

The hunger for answers burns the inside of my stomach, begging me for something more than the longing. But there are so many things I’m too scared to ask. Others, to scared to find out.

Example: What does it feel like to die?

“How hot is hell?”

“Is hell really hot? Or is it just a figure of speech?”

These are some of the many questions I ponder daily.

But today, I go searching for answers.

I’m sixteen now, sitting I my red Chevrolet pickup truck. It’s mid-morning, most of my family is dozing off inside. I sigh, my elbows on the steering wheel and my face in my hands. Without looking up, I put the key in the ignition and turn on the radio. Some sort of pop song blares from the car's speakers. I’ve never heard of it before. The radio doesn’t tell me what song it is or who the artist is. I let my thoughts wander to the many questions I now have about the song. I snap out of it as I realize I came here for answers, not questions. 

I pull out of my driveway and just drive.

—————————————————————————————————————

I’m counting the small slashes on the road again. I’m at 576 when I realize I’ve only been counting one half of the road, not the other. I sigh and then restart.

Blue sky meets green grass, expanding far beyond my reach. The road meets a curve and I follow it willingly, wanting to finally reach the end of the road, and know that I’m first.

I pass by children with basketball, bushes with the strange white flowers I’ve always wanted to find the name of but never could. There are schools, some old, some new. The big office buildings with the huge, wide window I’ve stared up at since I was a child.

The sun glints off of the huge windows and I flinch. It burns my eyes and I swerve. The car flies to my left and I immediately yank it back to my right. Colors and lights blur past my face. The road isn’t that busy, but I catch myself flying past cars, dodging them with quick yanks on the steering wheel. Adrenaline courses through my veins and my palms sweat on the wheel as I slam on the breaks. 

I screech to a stop in the middle of the road. The landscape around me is serene. Blue sky and rolling green hills. Each one dipped in a vast array of colorful flowers. I see vibrant shades of blue, titanium white, and saturated purple.

I’m panting as tears roll down my cheeks. I hear cars behind me.

I have to keep moving.

I step on the gas, not too hard though, and continue to drive.

I’m not paying attention to the landscape anymore. I let my mind drift and nod my head to the beat of the music I never bothered to turn off.

What were the odds of me surviving that?

How many cars did I fly by?

Are they ok?

Did I know any of them?

Are they hurt?

Am I hurt?

I shake my head t all these questions and scan myself for injuries. Nothing. I keep driving.

I’m still in the hillside when I notice the bend in the road. It’s strange, the way it curves. I follow it.

The road is more worn down than the others, filled with potholes and such. But I follow it.

It leads me past huge cities, lakes, rivers, and ponds, finally drifting into a smaller city.

I follow that same road past worn down buildings, some of them just iron frames of what they used to be.

I drive past stray animals, young businesswoman, and men. Some wave and I wave back.

I follow the road until I finally reach a dead end.

It’s the end of the road.

And it didn’t matter how I got there.

How it took me 6,984 small lines on the road just to find myself here.

What matters is that I realize I don’t have to hate curiosity to embrace it.

I realize it makes me human.

It makes us human.

Oh, and yes, I was first.