we ordered root beer at the drive-through but the liquid that I am intermittently sipping tastes of bubblegum coke.
everything has a special flavor, however, when you’re driving down a highway with a car full of people you love, heading away from home and into the last salute to the summer of ’19. one final beach trip before slipping back into the monotony of classes, schedules, note-taking and stress-coping mechanisms.
the sky is spread out pitch black in all directions, and the headlights illumine only a few cars ahead of us. we’ve already lost track of our second vehicle at this point, but we’re in no danger of getting off-route after innumerable years of driving these four hours through 2 states and across one of the world’s scariest bridges.
corn fields have flown past, as well as the routine roadside articles of interest: the field of solar panels, the prison with its mazes of barbed wire, the Mormon temple with golden spires pointed at the sky.
soon we’ll arrive at the beach house and stumble through the front door, rubbing eyes that are red from fatigue but still have a evil glint when it comes to choosing the best room.
as for your romantic and introverted scribe, i long to find my way onto the porch and just stare into the sky for a bit, soak up the first minutes of our first night, grow intimate with the glittering dome that embraces this small town on the edge of the Atlantic. for the sky is so much more vivid by the ocean. the stars, unhindered by city lights, are far brighter and far more numerous, and seem to swim in the pool of dark blue that swirls up above. and the muted roaring of the waves on the shore is thrillingly alive compared to the soundtrack that lulls me to sleep back in the suburbs.
but for now we wind around the curves of the road which will eventually lead us to that final embrace of summer. i pray that we’ll soak in enough sunshine to battle whatever winter and school will assault us with in upcoming months.
sitting in the front seat, legs crossed, staring into the blackness ahead