And so I drive. I drive because I am feeling lost. I drive because it feels good to get away. I drive because, even though I’m down, I can be healed by the beauty in this day.
I drive farther, turn after turn. With every beautiful shadow, I feel relief from the burn. The angry words. The exhaustive fight. With this kind of view, all becomes right.
I drive uphills and down them, too. It reminds me of life, and it reminds me of you.
I drive through corridors of beautiful trees, and it makes me feel safe, as if no one can see.
I turn up my music, and let my hands decide where to go. I feel the weight leaving me, and my smile starts to show.
I drive alone, but the music fills my mind. It’s chasing away the bad, and steady breathing is no longer hard to find.
I drive by things that are vacant, and I drive by things that have been left behind. They remind me of us, and they remind me that our love has turned into something so unkind.
I drive a little faster to pass this by. I see some other creatures, and their non-judging eyes. I slow my speed, and I allow myself to, finally, cry.
The cry feels so good, and the sun shines so bright. I realize my problems are minute, and I’m gonna be alright.
Turn after turn, I’ve been driving for a while. I left home with a burden, and I’m returning with a smile.
Peace. Love. And seeing the beauty in everything.