This is 40, Installment 4

I've learned that some people don't make sense, and that's okay.

You know the ones:

She's in the express lane checkout with 105 items and a handful of coupons and she's writing a check. 

He's in the left lane happily going 12 miles an hour in a 45 zone, next to someone in the right lane who's on her phone.

These people don't make sense.

I'm almost 40 and I think I've come to terms with that. These people happen. They will continue happening for the rest of forever. And nothing I do or say or how many times I roll my eyes or make annoyed coughs, she will continue to stand in the bathroom line with a huge gap between her and the person in front of her while the end of the line snakes down the hall. He will wait for 20 minutes with his turn signal on, while the family of eight loads up their groceries and buckle up for safety, so he can claim the parking spot ten feet closer to the store.

And that's okay.

We won't be best friends, we won't even maintain eye contact, but I don't have to try to teach you a lesson with my indignation or a "thoughtful" word of advice, or even be involved in any way.

Coming to know and practice this is freeing. And for some reason it has taken me awhile to internalize. I do not understand people. I love many of them and I like many of them, but not all of them. But they will always be here, with their turn signals stuck on, or completely blocking the bread aisle with their cart.

And that's okay.

This is 40.

And that's okay.