Departure

On a highway. Interstate 95, due North. 3 columns of white dashes surround me. I remember hearing that each of those dashes is 15 feet long, but they don't seem like it because you're going past them so quickly. Up ahead, an assortment of cars look like they're crawling on a conveyor belt towards some unknown fate. The darkening sky means that headlights start coming on. Scattered red lights in front create a light show. One by one by one by one, they all flicker on. The inevitable.

3 columns fuses to two. In the depths of my brain, a single tear materializes and trickles from the cerebellum down to the medulla oblongata.

2 columns fuses to one. "Today was a good day." A picnic on a hill. Grilled cheese sammichs, crackers, hummus, strawberries, blackberries, grapes, two gigantic chocolate chip cookies. An absolute smorgasbord, practically. The view. Straight ahead's 10 Pound Island. Light blue sky touches dark blue water. Wandering around town. Here's the school, here's that wooden playground I was talking about. Hands intertwined. "Pirates." "Ninjas." An extraordinarily brief and awkward encounter with your friends. Moving on, moving on, moving on. Chocolate ice cream with fudge bits. Two spoons, please. A little smeared on your mom's car we used for the afternoon... whoops? Troll 2 and its infinite plot holes. Day ends before it begins, it feels. 6 hours sounds never-ending, but it's only seconds with you.

One column becomes two yellow lines. This is when you know you're getting close to home. Back into familiar territory. It's a surreal feeling that's both welcome and unwelcome. Up the hill, turn left. Go straight, follow the road into town. Veer left, then turn left, and then bear left again. And you're there.

Home.

Sadly.

~=~