I was driving, driving in your car
Lately it seems as though my life can be summed up by those mometns I spend driving alone in my car.
There's just something about the perfect harmony of the bold New Mexico sky, the feel of the road under the tires, and another voice in the form of music of news to break the silence.
This past week has just been so impossibly long, each day's drive with its own character.
Monday was a furiously rainy morning and a six o'clock dinner date with my Dad at the end of a drizly day, the soft grey and purple sky providing a perfect compliment to the mountains framed by a sharp double rainbow. A weight finally lifted from my shoulders.
Tuesday afternoon faded in to the beginnings of twilight as I forced my gym weary body to control the car, delighting at the ache in my abs.
Wednesday I scowled and squinted, relaxing incrimentally each mile down the road, singing country music around a peperment stick. The burst of adreneline from almost being killed once again tensed me right back up again, but the minty flavor and the twang of guitars brought me back down.
Thursday i slumped in my seat, driving even less agressivly than usual just as dusk turned to night. Soft and sweet, humming quitely to myself in the night air I drove with my windows down for the first time.
Friday I drove full of the anticipation and muted longing that only come with night driving and soft music towards a destination you look forward to reaching. I felt at peace and at home with myself.
Saturday I was only the passenger, never the driver.
Sunday I drove in a hurry out of my house, stifiling emotion, and on the way back I let it all pour out of me as I blasted music and alternated hot and cold air. I made a phone call and then cried with my whole body, the tears rushing out, surely compromising my driving abilities. Even as I stopped the car my breath came in hiccupping gasps.
There's just something about the perfect harmony of the bold New Mexico sky, the feel of the road under the tires, and another voice in the form of music of news to break the silence.
This past week has just been so impossibly long, each day's drive with its own character.
Monday was a furiously rainy morning and a six o'clock dinner date with my Dad at the end of a drizly day, the soft grey and purple sky providing a perfect compliment to the mountains framed by a sharp double rainbow. A weight finally lifted from my shoulders.
Tuesday afternoon faded in to the beginnings of twilight as I forced my gym weary body to control the car, delighting at the ache in my abs.
Wednesday I scowled and squinted, relaxing incrimentally each mile down the road, singing country music around a peperment stick. The burst of adreneline from almost being killed once again tensed me right back up again, but the minty flavor and the twang of guitars brought me back down.
Thursday i slumped in my seat, driving even less agressivly than usual just as dusk turned to night. Soft and sweet, humming quitely to myself in the night air I drove with my windows down for the first time.
Friday I drove full of the anticipation and muted longing that only come with night driving and soft music towards a destination you look forward to reaching. I felt at peace and at home with myself.
Saturday I was only the passenger, never the driver.
Sunday I drove in a hurry out of my house, stifiling emotion, and on the way back I let it all pour out of me as I blasted music and alternated hot and cold air. I made a phone call and then cried with my whole body, the tears rushing out, surely compromising my driving abilities. Even as I stopped the car my breath came in hiccupping gasps.