Miles to Go

(stream of consciousness)

There is a road not too far from my house that I sometimes run along. There's only one lane going in either direction, and except for rush hour, not much traffic.

I like to drive on this road when it's late afternoon, and even more when the sun is setting. The last bit of sun burning my skin, settling inside the car like a cloud. It's intoxicating.

Music. Enya, Led Zeppelin, Gregory Alan Isakov? Hozier today. And Tomorrow. Celtic Woman when it rains, Stevie Wonder when the fires came. I don't know why, but somehow everything sounds better when I'm driving down that road. It's not just that my car has excellent acoustics, either.

Dusty Springfield. Maybe the news, because it's important to know things. Nobody ever seems to care what, so long as you know them. It's the act of knowing, funny enough.

This road knows things. As it winds and climbs and falls, it tells stories. It remembers the firemen that came speeding, and the police car chasing the Mercedes. It remembers the scent of weed from the boys that climb the slope on one side and sit, in plain view of  everyone, smoking and laughing.

From time to time I'm the only one driving down the road. It's a real treat to release the gas and feel us drift slowly toward 20 miles an hour. It used to make me anxious, but I've learned to appreciate the sensation of letting go, allowing myself to slow down and feel every bump in the road. Isn't it funny how much of a rush people always are, even when they haven't any place to go that merits it?

Ha ha.

I always see older couples walking, in the early morning, after lunch, in the evening. What is it like, I wonder, to walk with someone after forty, fifty years. I'm afraid to grow old, but their faces are so sweet and their hands are clasped sometimes. When love becomes a habit.

The Yard birds, because I was feeling something bluesy.

The quiet purr of the engine, the sound of air whipping past- something I can feel more than I can hear. I know this road like I know my favorite book. I know the beginning, middle, end, eyes closed. But that doesn't mean I don't prefer to keep them open, for just one more reading.