Not too long ago, I was making the trek from the San Francisco Bay Area to Orange County. It’s a journey I take at least twice a year to visit my family, and this time I was navigating it solo. Those familiar with the roads know it’s usually crowded with travelers, many in campers, and huge semi-trucks hauling their loads from Northern California to Southern California, and back again. I’m so use to it that I’m almost on auto-pilot. But this day was different.
The day, though in the middle of January, was crisp and sunny. The roads were remarkably clear and my mind was focusing on the small details…the things I usually drive past and never register. As I approached a truck from behind, I noticed that it was devoid of any advertising, a blank white canvas, and the trucker, in his own hand, had painted the following words:
A grocery list? Couldn’t be. No. I imagined it an elegantly simple poem about the things that matter most to him.
So for the duration of my journey, I made a mental list of the people, places and things that matter the most to me. I thought of all the blessings in my life, including the current open road before me.
I am so grateful to the trucker poet. He matters.