I shall not pass this way again
Last night about 9:15 I rode down to a kid's house about 20 miles south of Atlanta to work on a project for one of my classes. It was late and traffic wasn't too bad. There was a sunroof in the car, and the kid driving was smoking so it was open and both of the windows were rolled down and the cold wind whipped at my neck, but it felt good because the heater was turned all the way up. The stereo was incredibly loud playing At the Drive In, which I'd never heard before but came across as angry youth rock. He said it was "Indy" rock. He drove quite aggressively; going at least 20 mph faster than everyone around at some points and going around people with clearance measurable in inches. It was a small car and I had the seat pretty far forward so that the guy sitting behind me would have some leg room; however this left my knees about an inch from the dashboard.
I was quite uncomfortable on the whole. When he started smoking I tried pulling all my hair to the other side of my body and only taking half breaths, and I began wondering how much I was going to smell like smoke and if there was any way I could avoid it.
And yet, he was smoking Marlboro Reds, the same type Dad smokes, and when I was younger I found that smell when you first light up comforting because it was associated with Dad. I always used to go out and ride around with Leah while she smoked with the windows down and the music blaring because I enjoyed the riding and I didn't mind the smoke.
I remember loving Taylor's sunroof when we would ride around late at night to get coffee and such. I loved my hair blowing out of it and putting my hands through it, but last night it brought me no comfort (this was probably due to the fact that a. there are no stars in Atlanta and b. I couldn't take my eyes off the road long enough to look up).
The kid's driving made me squeamish and I dug my fingernails into the seat more than once really believing we were going to hit someone, and yet I remember driving, if not quite that bad, similarly. Fast and aggressive, without regard for tomorrow, maybe even daring it not to come.
It took me a few moments of riding before I saw all of this in more than one light. I looked up and saw the overpasses whizzing by, and halfway through wishing them not to be whizzing quite so quickly I realized/remembered that that is what youth is like. It's that search to be living completely in that moment. Wanting to feel everything possible right then and there because tomorrow may not come for you, and if it does you don't know what it holds. I remember that feeling, that the entire universe exists only in this moment; I lived and breathed that feeling at TAMS Sr. year. I always thought it a kind of bittersweet beauty, and at TAMS it seemed overwhelmingly so. I suppose for me it was always inter-twined with leaving everyone and never seeing each other under the same circumstances again, being different people when we met again, etc. At least for me, driving always seemed one of the paths that it vented itself easiest; I suppose that's why I saw it.
Last night I remembered all of this, and I recognized it in the kid driving, but I realized I no longer have it (or at least that it doesn't justify the driving), and I did not miss it. Perhaps my youth is leaving and maybe that's okay.
... but I still love all of you and miss you.
I was quite uncomfortable on the whole. When he started smoking I tried pulling all my hair to the other side of my body and only taking half breaths, and I began wondering how much I was going to smell like smoke and if there was any way I could avoid it.
And yet, he was smoking Marlboro Reds, the same type Dad smokes, and when I was younger I found that smell when you first light up comforting because it was associated with Dad. I always used to go out and ride around with Leah while she smoked with the windows down and the music blaring because I enjoyed the riding and I didn't mind the smoke.
I remember loving Taylor's sunroof when we would ride around late at night to get coffee and such. I loved my hair blowing out of it and putting my hands through it, but last night it brought me no comfort (this was probably due to the fact that a. there are no stars in Atlanta and b. I couldn't take my eyes off the road long enough to look up).
The kid's driving made me squeamish and I dug my fingernails into the seat more than once really believing we were going to hit someone, and yet I remember driving, if not quite that bad, similarly. Fast and aggressive, without regard for tomorrow, maybe even daring it not to come.
It took me a few moments of riding before I saw all of this in more than one light. I looked up and saw the overpasses whizzing by, and halfway through wishing them not to be whizzing quite so quickly I realized/remembered that that is what youth is like. It's that search to be living completely in that moment. Wanting to feel everything possible right then and there because tomorrow may not come for you, and if it does you don't know what it holds. I remember that feeling, that the entire universe exists only in this moment; I lived and breathed that feeling at TAMS Sr. year. I always thought it a kind of bittersweet beauty, and at TAMS it seemed overwhelmingly so. I suppose for me it was always inter-twined with leaving everyone and never seeing each other under the same circumstances again, being different people when we met again, etc. At least for me, driving always seemed one of the paths that it vented itself easiest; I suppose that's why I saw it.
Last night I remembered all of this, and I recognized it in the kid driving, but I realized I no longer have it (or at least that it doesn't justify the driving), and I did not miss it. Perhaps my youth is leaving and maybe that's okay.
... but I still love all of you and miss you.