I took the highway to my grandparents' home today. I took the back roads home.
It was a gorgeous, sunny day and a great song was on the radio. I had no place to be and I was alone with my thoughts. It was the perfect situation for a little jaunt past some of my old stomping grounds.
I drove past the home of some kids I used to hang out with. I always thought their house was a mansion. Turns out, it's actually just your basic two story home with some columns out front. Perspective is a funny thing.
I drove past my old church, where I learned that I have a flair for the dramatic while acting in the Christmas play several years in a row. The same Christmas play, I might add.
I hit the gravel road that leads from my grandparents' town to my parents' place and rolled down the windows, letting the wind whip my hair. I slipped off my sandals and turned up the radio. I forgot about my backache and my bad mood.
I discovered that they tore down the house on the corner at the four-way stop between the two towns. I used to love reaching that point on my bicycle, because I knew I was halfway to my destination.
I remembered Saturday nights in high school, "cruising" those back roads with my friends, singing and talking about deep subjects like who we'd be when we turned twenty.
It was eight minutes of saying yes to fresh air and memories, and it was glorious.
It was a gorgeous, sunny day and a great song was on the radio. I had no place to be and I was alone with my thoughts. It was the perfect situation for a little jaunt past some of my old stomping grounds.
I drove past the home of some kids I used to hang out with. I always thought their house was a mansion. Turns out, it's actually just your basic two story home with some columns out front. Perspective is a funny thing.
I drove past my old church, where I learned that I have a flair for the dramatic while acting in the Christmas play several years in a row. The same Christmas play, I might add.
I hit the gravel road that leads from my grandparents' town to my parents' place and rolled down the windows, letting the wind whip my hair. I slipped off my sandals and turned up the radio. I forgot about my backache and my bad mood.
I discovered that they tore down the house on the corner at the four-way stop between the two towns. I used to love reaching that point on my bicycle, because I knew I was halfway to my destination.
I remembered Saturday nights in high school, "cruising" those back roads with my friends, singing and talking about deep subjects like who we'd be when we turned twenty.
It was eight minutes of saying yes to fresh air and memories, and it was glorious.
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