drive to change

The other night I was driving along a winding road; beside and below me was the steely ocean. It was late at night, and there was faint light on the road, intermittent gaps of it. There was a gentle gust blowing remnant autumnal leaves about, but overall – stillness. It was the kind of evening when no one was out. It looked dry out there, and cold. I drove along and took in my surroundings, mostly beheld by the beauty of the drive and that sense of stillness.

But it was not exciting, it was calm. I thought of my family and my home, how this was one of hundreds of times I’d driven that road towards that home. I felt and in my thoughts knew, in the most precise moment of realization, that I would one day be sixty years old, driving along this road, thinking about this very day. The day I was young, with energy – albeit misplaced at times – and fresh skin and new realizations about the world flooding in on a seemingly constant basis. The day I had a place called home, with a family and happy dogs and warmth and food; with unabandoned loyalty and much cherished support.

And the day I was so intrigued, so confused about the fact that one day, I would drive this road at sixty, swelling with all the memories one can have in a lifetime.

-December 12, 2011

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