Tonight was clear. The headlights from the cars driving south on the expressway looked brighter than usual. I wondered how often headlights need to be changed. The taillights of the cars ahead of me flickered red as we waited in heavy traffic. I drive-and-think a lot. I thought about other routes that would get me home. What if I turn left here? I tried to envision the way. But I wasn't sure where that might lead me, so I stayed in the lane that was backed up for about a mile. A bit later, I thought about bearing right. But turning right would lead me back to where I had just been. Lately, I have been reminiscing about my old habits, and craving to indulge in them. I want relief from being bullied by life. I know how this must sound, coming from a wife and mother of two, not to mention a Christian. But every now and then I feel an overpowering draw to turn right and go back. It's hereditary. A joint won't hurt. Being backed up in traffic doesn't help. A joint would alleviate the irritability of being jammed. But I don't turn right. I thought again about turning left, to travel the unfamiliar road--just drive away and don't look back. But I don't turn left, either. Instead, I continue on the road that is narrow and difficult to travel.