I remember falling asleep in the back seat of my father’s car, opening my eyes sometimes to look up through the windows to find familiar.  If the lights were orange, we were still on the highway.  When the car slowed for a red light, I knew we were getting closer.  I’d keep my eyes closed and try to imagine where we were, exactly how far from the street, from the driveway.  After a few years, I learned the bends, the sounds, the difference in light, and I knew the motion of a turn onto our street.  My body knew I was home.  It knows the same thing now with you.

On overcast days colors seem brighter.  When impending doom ribbons through the air, everything seems more alive–love and fear.  Children leave home for boarding schools, in their navy sweaters and ripped jeans, to summer camp with headphones and a pillow for the bus, for foreign language trips to study abroad with tattered dictionaries filled with highlighted idioms.  Parents stand together in gray parking lots, a band of arms around torsos and shoulders, balled up tissues raised to absorb the saline as the bus rolls on.  Hands press against the glass bus windows, leaving behind a labyrinth of fingerprints, bittersweet, and miss.  I’m not leaving home now that I’ve found it.



  1. "On overcast days colors seem brighter"… beauty like that is meant for two.

  2. I remember the same type of road trips. There was always the stop light off the highway that would wake me up. Then I would try to map out our progression with my eyes closed – checking every now and then to see if I was right… Now I'm always the one driving… so traveling with eyes closed doesn't work anymore, but it's a great memory. Thanks.

  3. I used to do the same thing. You always bring me back memories that I forgot I had.

  4. Yes, everyone's driveway makes a different sound. It's like your body has a gyroscope that keeps track of all the bends and turns you need to get home, or how you can recognize home just by seeing the tops of trees, laying down on the back seat of the car.

  5. On the drive to my primary school there was a huge dip in the road, my stomach would always sink as i realised that we were close.

    I love the sound of the gravel crunching as you get home, you can feel it in your stomach. wonderful.


  6. Love this. Everyone should ponder and go back to these childhood feelings you speak of in this post from time to time. Hard to make time for if your not a writer I guess! You have me sighing at my computer in Southfield, Michigan thinking of my youth….huhhhhh…..

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