Alan Dedicasio’s hands gripped the steering wheel as his Ford Explorer continued straight past his usual exit. He didn’t consciously decide to skip it. The car simply kept heading west, as if it had made up its own mind and he was just along for the ride.
It was Monday morning and Alan had been driving for merely twenty minutes when it happened. He was supposed to get off the Expressway at Exit 49 and turn left onto Pinelawn Road. It was the way he drove to work every day. As an engineer, he had timed the commute down to the minute. He’d leave home by 7:55 and get on the Expressway heading west. He would turn down Pinelawn at 8:15, park at 8:20, coffee at 8:25, and be sitting at his desk ready to work at exactly 8:30. Every single day, it was the same routine. An unbreakable habit.
Ten miles past his exit, Alan continued west with no destination in mind. It wasn’t like he was driving one of those new autonomous vehicles he had read about. He wasn’t. He even looked around to confirm it. Sure enough, it was his trusty ten-year old Ford Explorer with 148,321 miles on the odometer. He finally took the next exit off the highway and headed north, winding through the some of the most beautiful hilly terrain and tree-lined roads he’d ever seen.
The morning sun flickered through the trees, bathing everything it touched in its warm sparkling glow. As the road twisted and turned, an old stone church perched on a hill came into view, quietly overlooking the neighborhood below.
Without thinking, Alan slowed down, signaled, and turned up the long, steep driveway. He pulled into the empty gravel lot at the top and stepped out of his car. For a moment, he simply stood there, his gaze locked on the towering chapel resting on the edge of the cliff. Beyond it, the cloudless blue sky met the shimmering great bay in the distance. The old stone and fieldstone structure was shaded by hundreds of tall trees that surrounded it, as if they were shielding the church from the outside world. Breathing heavily, he climbed the massive stone stairs to the top and stepped inside. The heavy, dark wooden doors closed behind him with a soft thud.
Alan took a deep breath. The blended scent of old wood, candle wax and incense filled his lungs, bringing back memories from long ago, before life got complicated. At the front of the church, above the altar, was a large but simple wooden crucifix decorated in the dim morning sunlight that filtered through the stained-glass windows on either side of the vestibule.
He walked slowly down the center aisle and slid into one of the pews toward the front. His knees found the kneeler almost on their own. He folded his hands, lowered his head, and did something that he hadn’t done in years. He prayed.
“Thank you, God,” Alan said, moving his lips, in a soft whisper that was barely audible. “Thank you for the life you’ve given me. For my wife, Maria. Our two beautiful daughters, my parents, my job… for everything.”
He suddenly paused, sensing someone’s presence nearby. He looked over his shoulder, but the chapel was empty. He shook his head, closed his eyes and continued, speaking silently from his heart.
I’ve tried so hard to do the right thing, but I feel so lost. Is this all there is?
He thought of Maria and how they had slowly grown apart, both of them so busy caring for everyone else, while they quietly neglected themselves. Their aging parents needed them. So did their daughters, whom he loved more than anything. He worked hard, and when the bills kept coming, he worked harder. He truly didn’t mind any of it, but he could no longer ignore the growing void he felt inside.
He remembered his youth, such a long time ago. He had dreamed of doing something big, even spectacular. He believed he could make a real difference in the world—he would make it better and perhaps inspire others in the process. None of that happened, and life was passing him by. In a few years he’d turn fifty, and this wasn’t what he had imagined. He felt so alone.
He stayed on his knees, as his thoughts slowed, and he just listened in the quiet silence. Minutes passed. Then, a single tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another. And another. Soon he was crying, softly, shoulders shaking, not even sure why. When the tears finally stopped, he wiped his face on his sleeve and sat back in the pew for a long time.
As responsible as he was, Alan knew he should be at work. Yet for the first time in years, he felt no urgent need to rush back. This was more important.
He simply sat there, letting his heart empty itself into the stillness of the church.
Fill me, he prayed silently. Give me direction. Not what I want, but what You want for the rest of my life.
In that moment of surrender, a calm and loving peace washed over him. One that was deeper and more complete than anything he had ever known.
As he walked back outside into the bright morning light, Alan realized he didn’t have all the answers, but his anxiety had lifted, leaving him filled with compassion and trust. He climbed into the Explorer and started the engine. He had left his phone in the car, and it was buzzing on the seat. He answered.
“Alan, where are you? Are you okay?” Maria’s voice was tense with worry.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why? What’s going on?
“I’ve been trying to reach you. They said you weren’t at work. There was a huge accident and I thought…”
“No, honey, I’m okay. Sorry I worried you.”
Maria exhaled in relief. “Okay, thank God. I was so nervous.”
“Maria,” Alan said gently, “Can you meet me at that little coffee place in town in about half an hour? I love you and there’s something I want to tell you.”
She agreed. After they hung up, he swiped his phone and multiple news alerts flooded the screen.
BREAKING: 8:15 a.m. Serious Crash on Pinelawn Rd
Traffic at a standstill following a multi-car accident
with multiple injuries reported. Avoid the area.
Alan’s hands began to tremble. That was exactly when and where he would have been if he took his usual exit. But not today.
He sat there for a long moment in that empty parking lot on the hill. He stared at his phone, then looked back toward the old stone church. He smiled and nodded slowly, grateful for so much. He turned the wheel and drove back down the long driveway, heading toward home and toward Maria.
Today was the start of something new.
And now he was certain—he wasn’t driving alone.
Joseph L. Licari is a multi-genre author and music instructor from Saint James, New York. His debut children’s book, “Mia’s Mouses”, was published in 2024. He holds an MBA from Hofstra University and a B.S. from Stony Brook University.