I’m sitting in the dark in the backseat of a car, my brother in the front, listening to a pod cast, while I have his decrepit pair of headphones in my ears. Only the right side works. My left side is therefore listening to the soft hum of voices from a pod cast, while my right listens to mellow, sleepy music. It makes me glad to be awake at an hour when most the world is sleeping. I like the quiet, the lights blankly staring back at you, the miles reaching out before you and behind. It gives me this sort of late-night peace unique to road trips.
Earlier I leaned with my face against the window, crowded with rain drops racing each other down the glass.
I stare through the blur at the darkening sky, the storm clouds blanketing us, the lightning playing games around us….running through the fields and the open sky. I am surrounded by an odd serenity, maybe it’s derived from the awe demanded by such storms. They always remind me how small we are, but in what large hands we are held.
And suddenly the tranquility is broken by the music. My pondering replaced by singing. It’s midnight and this is how we accomplish two things in the car:
1) staying awake.
2) having way too much fun.
And I am sad about only one thing: I only get so many of these moments in my life. And I will probably be aware of even fewer than I get.
But at least I am aware of the importance of sitting in a car at midnight, music loud and inevitably sung along with, streaming down the road feeling the invitation of going somewhere, being homesick for everywhere.
And soon the night magic of travel will be over.
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