So it turns out that I completely didn't plan to write this post. But hey, I think it was time for one of those again right? And at some point I'll totally get to finishing the ones I was actually thinking about writing. ^_^
It was really a coincidence of a few things that led me to this post:
- I was driving back home on my own
- It was night time
- Stars were visibly out
- The song playing on the stereo
I've always loved driving. Especially when I get to gun the engine and take things a little over the top. Cranked up music, endless winding roads, being one with the car and all that. But my favorite part? Driving at night.
To me there is always something somewhat magical about driving at night, with clear skies and clear roads. In fact, there need not be any music at all. It's a little hard for me to explain this well, since it's just a sense of being that fills up inside me. I even recall a post I had considered way back when to gush about that very thing.
But if I could use words to roughly translate the feeling... There's this vast road like a vast world, but the world is really small cause it's just the space in your car, and there's this kind of peace and the almost hypnotic lighting overhead. Like the world is passing you by, but the sky is still there above you (ok, that's you know relativity and all that but moving on)... It's really just you but you're snug and warm - cuddled in the embrace of your car. And you feel almost overcome but so calm like you can't breathe but you haven't breathed so deeply before...
Ok that's about as much as I can get across without going into physical gestures or making even less sense, and I'm not even sure if that would work.
Now, if we really go back, you could say that maybe my enjoyment is rooted in my childhood - when we often too road trips all over the place.
There was always something quiet about being on the road at night. Most of the rest of the car was usually asleep - which meant the music had probably finished, or was only softly playing through the car's speakers. And there was this un-named sense that filled me (you know probably the same thing I tried to describe above).
And on the occasions we pulled out the Dodge Grand Caravan (RIP), and the rare occasions I'd have that clear sky, I'd push back the back seat of the car to lie back and watch the unreachable black canvas above. Somehow, I'd always get this immeasurable joy and peace - like somehow everything was ok.
So of course it was no shock that I'd get hit with this nostalgia driving home. But I can't say I expected the sudden emptiness beside me.
That what was missing was the person to share this with.
That absence of warmth surrounding me.