There’s a very short story by Dr. Seuss called “The Zax.”

One is a North-Bound Zax and one is a South-Bound Zax.

The two meet, face-to-face. Because neither of them is willing to take a step to the side, each stands angrily and waits for the other Zax to move.

Eventually, a freeway is built around them as they stand, waiting.

I read this story last night to my four-year-old, and wondered how many times I refuse to get out of the way of my own Zax.

It feels so good, sometimes, to be on a path. It feels sure. I’m headed in a direction, and I can point it out to anyone who asks.

One of my own patterns is my hesitancy to step aside, to alter my path, even when it would be ever-so-easy. I cling to that path.

I’ve always wondered what would have happened had either of the Zaxes moved. Would the one who moved have gone back on the exact same path, or would he have found a slightly different route?

Would moving aside allowed the other Zax to accomplish something great? Was his path the crucial one?

What did the world miss because the two of them were stuck?

What would you do, if your Zax met you?