Wildflowers, Hurry and Honey

“Damnable traffic,” I thought, gripping the wheel tighter as I tried to rush from two valleys over–to a store where I knew I could buy some honey. It was not just any honey, it was for Leggs.

After her show and at the after-party, I wanted to give it to her, a sweet offering to match her wild spirit. But as the minutes ticked by and the road clogged with cars, I knew there was no way I could make it.

“Damnable traffic,” I muttered again, frustration thick in my voice.

Finally, I was beginning to make some headway, creeping toward the traffic light. Just as it turned green, I heard the unmistakable pop of a tire blowing out. The truck lurched to the right, dropping with a sickening thud. My heart sank with it.

I cursed under my breath, guiding the truck across the oncoming lane and into a large pullout by the side of the road. Anger surged, but underneath it, there was a strange calm, a quiet resignation to how things unfold—like the universe was nudging me, reminding me I had no control. Not really.

As I wrestled with the jack and lug wrench, sweat dripping down my face, I promised to get the flat tire fixed first thing in the morning. I was breathing hard when I finished, my muscles sore from the effort. I sat down on the tailgate, wiped my hands, and closed my eyes, listening to the hum of traffic rushing past.

When I opened my eyes again, something caught my attention–just up the hillside, not twenty feet from where I parked, stood a small table. A hand-painted sign leaned against it: “HONEY.”

I blinked in surprise, sure that table was not there when I pulled over. A small SUV parked beside it, and jars of honey glistened in the afternoon sun.

I smiled, the irony not lost on me. I walked over, and a woman sitting in the SUV looked up, a warm smile crossing her face.

“What’s your favorite?” I asked, my voice soft, feeling like the moment wasn’t real.

Without hesitation, she picked up a jar labeled “Wildflowers.” And in that instant, I knew. Leggs had always been a wildflower—strong, vibrant, blossoming wherever life happened to plant her. She moved with the seasons, blooming when conditions were just right.

It was not a coincidence that brought me here. It was something else, something beyond—a divinity at play in the details.

I bought the honey, and as I walked back to my truck, I felt the rush of time fall away. There was no more hurry. Somehow, I would make it to the after-party in plenty of time.

And I did.