Letting Go.


Yesterday, as many of my Facebook and Twitter friends know, I got snaked out of a parking space before work. It left me furious. Shakingly so. How does this woman live with herself? What is her work ethic? Does she throw her colleagues under the bus on a regular basis? Is it always “Me, first. Manners, second?” I’m pretty sure she works where I do. I just hope I never have to work with her. I might. And because of that, I do not really want to know who she is.

I actually found an excellent parking space as a result of her rudeness. She parked in my new-found spot this morning. Yep. She’s that driver.

This is my way of purging. My way of letting go. My way of asking the universe to take care of the drama and the karma.

So last night. Man, talk about feeling like the universe is trying to piss on me! Last night after my awesome swim at The Oahu Club, I put the van in reverse and started backing out of my space. A guy in a little red car with lots of bumper stickers on it declaring his sensitivity and all that kind of crap, pulled around me so that he could get to the driveway first. He floored it in the parking lot. So I sat there behind him waiting for about a minute before he finally got a break in traffic to tear out onto Hawaii Kai Drive.

His running shoes were on top of his car. I toyed with the idea of beeping my horn to tell him, but then he’d think I was being bitchy about his rude move, even though he would have deserved to have been bitched at. I decided it would be safer for me to let it go, to let the shoes stay on the car while he tore around Hawaii Kai like the a$$hole that he was. Those shoes hung on all the way down Hawaii Kai Drive until he got to Keahole where he made a right and I made a left. I watched. I wanted centripetal force to toss those shoes into the middle of the road without him knowing. It might have happened after we each went into our own directions. Or not. He might have gotten home with his shoes still stuck on top, thanks to the miracle of physics.

I doubt it would occur to him how lucky he is. I think when you’re an a$$ and a jerk in a grownup’s body, you just think life is effen great.

Breathing. Letting go. Sigh.

Author: lavagal

Hawaii Kai wife and mom. Melanoma Stage 3a Cancer survivor. English Language Learners Coordinator and Paraprofessional Tutor. Super sub teacher. Dormant triathlete. Road cyclist and Masters swimmer. Gardener. Mrs. Fixit. Random dancer. Music Curator. A teenager trapped in an aging body. Did you know 60 is the new 40? It is.

One thought on “Letting Go.”

  1. It sounds as if you’ve got it. Find a happy place. Breathe deep and relax. Let that anger fester and you just make yourself sick. The shrug is a very healthy exercise.

    There really probably isn’t some cosmic force that rights wrongs and brings those incapable of feeling shame to justice for jerkiness. *Shrug*

    We can’t change all the people who have abandoned civility as the island has gotten increasingly crowded, or as the daily travails of the 99 percent have made them rude in response. We can’t change those whose haughtiness and wealth have increased at a disproportionate rate to the rest of society. We can’t change all the bougie strivers without manners. *Shrug* (I just learned that word, “bougie,” so I’m happy to trot it out. A shortening of bourgeois, apparently pronounced “boozhie” or something along those lines.)

    When I saw your headline, “Letting go,” I thought you might even tie in the recent North Shore murder/suicide. There’s someone who apparently was not able to let go, either of a relationship or to a wrong he felt had been done him, with terrible consequences. But you didn’t go there … I did. *Shrug*

    Anyhow, you are exactly right. Let it go. Breathe. As I prepare for the drive to work, I myself will be working on finding that unassailable happy place. 😀

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