Road Trip

It’s dark outside.

This is the pitch-black kind of dark where silhouettes of trees are barely seen. Rain falls, smearing the windshield, reflecting headlights off of asphalt as if in a mirror.

The bus rumbles and sways, trying its best to rock me to sleep. I drift in and out of consciousness, a trusting child being driven through the night by mom. The most comfortable thing about this ride is that it’s not made more uncomfortable by having to share a seat.

Yoga poses help, as well.

Something about being driven north through the night on turnpikes and toll roads, stopping at travel plazas bleary-eyed and shivering, conjures up childhood memories.

I’m in the back-back with four other siblings hoping that no one will take off their shoes for me to dig out later. Hunkered down in a nest of blankets and pillows, one by one they drift off, until I am the only one left awake.

That’s fine with me.

I am perfectly content to prop my chin on that spot on the back of the front seat between my parents. There I have an unobstructed view out the front window, a direct line to any bits of important conversation, and the aromatherapy of coffee when the thermos is opened.

Until I get sleepy.

3 thoughts on “Road Trip

  1. Pingback: Oh Food | Composting the Heart

  2. Pingback: Seeking the Lost | Composting the Heart

Thanks for heart-composting with me! I appreciate your words.

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