Don’t Know Where It’s Going, But I’m Enjoying The Ride

I remember riding in the backseat of the car. It was our old station wagon; “the grocery getter,” as they were known. We were riding down a country road, zipping through copses of trees, (is that right? “copses?”), so that the sunlight through them formed a natural strobe effect. We zigzagged turns on this back road that cut through a number of ponds in Kent Country, Delaware. The sun reflected off the rippling water like gems in some storybook and warmed my face as my longish, 70’s kid hair whipped across my face. I don’t remember where we were going or why, I just remember that feeling of moving through the world, unfettered by anything in it. I shut my eyes and felt the vibration of the car and blocked out the music on the radio playing low in the front where my step-dad smoked and drove. He too was enjoying the ride, though he had to keep a certain connection to the world driving the car. I could tell we were both drifting on the horizon between earth and heaven, barely able to commit to one or the other.


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