She was the passenger and not the driver, and yet she was significant. Without her the journey would not necessarily need to take place, and if it still did, would follow quite a different route. It bothered her not that she was in this situation. Others might look and think she was there for a free ride, or that she was not capable of driving herself, or even that she was incidental to the journey.
She knew this was not the case and sometimes wanted to scream about it. Mostly she was content just to know the truth herself. She liked to think that as they travelled the route with ease, others picked fault because they noticed that it was a special arrangement, but likely it was really that they just couldn’t consider something which was different to the practice that they had themselves.
Being a passenger here was not something less and not something more, it was simply something. Something special, something important to them and something necessary for what they required. It allowed her the freedom to travel unhindered by the smaller details. She trusted that he would take care of those and it was he saw it as his privilege and duty to do so in way which filled her heart and his at the same time.
Sometimes she knew where they were going and sometimes she didn’t and that really was a large part of the fun. It made life exciting, unpredictable, but most of all it made her part of it. Her mind didn’t wander like it could as her senses were engaged in what was taking place around about her. Her reactions, her responses, were integral to the choices he made about where they went next.
Yes. Being a passenger was a role that she loved. It had taken hold and grown on her from the initial seed of recognition that she first had given space to. She had moved from it being something that she might enjoy, to something she now was at her very core. It was clear to them both now that she was not just a passenger passing through, but his passenger, there for the ride of her life.