Red light.

More traffic than usual, but I guess that makes sense.

Here I am, thinking I beat rush hour, but it doesn't take much to clog up small-town main streets in Vermont. My pointer and middle fingers are tapping the top of the steering wheel. There's the brewery in the brick building up ahead, and the fire department beyond that. A pub on the left, a craft store, a coffee shop. Awnings out front with sidewalk seating beneath. It's September, but the lamp posts look better with the garland, wreaths, lights and stuff. Add some snow, and it all comes together.

I'm sure we'll get there soon enough.

Yeesh, long light...

My thumbs have joined the dashboard-drumming. There's a line of cars stuck on the hill in both lanes while people stroll across the street. They're oozing their way in drips and drabs—some of them are even by the sidewalk. 

I spot the woman in the first car across the intersection tipping her head to the side, lips pursed. Her chin jerks back and I'm pretty sure her hand reaches for the center console. Eyebrows hoisted, she starts bopping her head.

Ahhhh... she cranked the volume.

Good for her.

Green light.

* * *

The day will be what it'll be, but the soundtrack's still ours.

onward.

For more on this daily column, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.