A few days ago I was slowly pulling out of my garage on my way to work. My mind was filled with plans for the day—the best route to drive to work, what would be waiting for me when I got to the office and so forth. The morning sun glistened on the windshield. As it did, I happened to notice a small fly sitting on the windshield. I figured when I gained speed, the fly would naturally take off on its own path. However, this little insect didn’t fly away as expected. Instead, its delicate feet clung to the sheer glass steadfastly.
Okay, I thought, I’m only going 25 miles an hour through the subdivision. But soon, I’ll get on the main road and the speed will grow to 35 miles an hour then to 50. By then my little traveller won’t be able to fight the wind shear anymore and buzz away.
I was surprised again—no matter how much the car built up speed, the little bug continued to hold on. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw its fine threadlike legs quiver ever so slightly, but maintain its balance. Even as the car travelled at 50 miles an hour, the fly shifted its stance. It was as if it was enjoying the high speed ride, its head thrust forward, iridescent wings gently vibrating in the wind.
After 4 miles, I had applied the brakes at the stop light. I looked over to the corner of the windshield and saw the tiny hitchhiker had flown away. Its destination must have been reached.
I had always heard that a fly’s lifespan is one day. This little traveller may have known its time was short and figured it could easily hitch a ride for miles. It could enjoy the scenery as well as not waste its finite energy. Or it knew its hours were numbered and wanted to experience its own version of a roller coaster.
It has become a reminder to me to live in the moment, find joy in the little things, like watching a fly on the morning windshield.
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