I pulled out of sydney's driveway and took a puff on my just-lit cigarette. [just for the record, i don't smoke. only about one cigarette a month when i'm feeling particularly rebellious] the glow of the bright orange embers made a striking contrast with the inky black of the night. my parents don't exactly condone smoking or the stench of cigarettes in my car, so i rolled down the windows and took off down runyon road. it occured to me that i hadn't driven down the road since attending a bonfire at nate zimmerly's house my junior year of high school. turned on to smith valley. and then 135. i was headed toward olive branch, but still had half the cigarette left. i turned down curry road, a path that i beat probably at least once or twice a day. i was on autopilot. i don't exactly pay attention when i drive, as everyone who's ever ridden in a car with me can vouch for. i sped down the road, angry about the price of gas (who isn't, i ask?), tired, pissed for not taking advice everyone from God on down has given me, and just generally irritable and aggravated. a light flashed in my mirror. fearful of a cop, i slammed on the brakes. i generally fly down honey creek at about 55, even though the limit is 30. as i glanced out the window, i noticed the view.
it's not much.
it's the flat, rolling landscape of Indiana farmland, dotted with the occasional silo, silhouetted against the night sky. the colors were so beautiful it might have been from a watercolor painting. a deep, deep blue sky and the midnight black of the trees, silos, and houses. but this landscape, to me at that very moment, was the most beautiful thing i'd seen in a long time. it literally took my breath away. i slowed down considerably, taking in the rest of the scenery. i'd driven down this same road hundreds of times, but had never noticed how pretty it looked at night. i crawled down the rest of the road, seeing things i'd never seen before. it was as though i were on a completely different road. i turned onto smokey row road and experienced the same sensation of discovering a whole landscape i never knew about, or more likely, never noticed at all.
i was completely absorbed in the moment. my mind was incredibly lucid. i wasn't worrying about gas prices, ex-boyfriends, money, anything. all i could fathom at that moment was the beauty of the world around me.
i've always generally regarded greenwood, indiana a rather lackluster town. it is a typical midwestern suburb; moms drive their minivans with jesus fish stick-ons and sports bumper stickers around streets lined with every franchise known to man. crime rates are low. for every bank, there are 2 churches and for every gas station there are 3 mcdonalds. a mall. a handful of real, honest-to-goodness farms, and a smattering of parks. it's the kind of town that's small enough for everyone to know everyone's business. i used to dream of living in a big, important city, but i now love greenwood for those very same small-town nuances. even though i love the town i call home, i take it for granted. i drive down roads with my foot to the floor, concentrating on nothing but the quickest way to reach my destination. i don't often enough, as the expression goes, stop and smell the roses. in fact, i leave them in the dust of my tailwind. i don't stop and take in the beauty of everything around me. i don't just savor the feeling of being alive often enough.
i draw in a breath of the crisp summer air and decide to take the shortcut through willow lakes. everyone who has attended center grove high school that has a driver's license can drive this shortcut blindfolded. i usually swerve through the neighborhood at fast speeds, tapping my breaks at stop signs, and the like. [in case you haven't noticed, i kind of regard traffic laws as helpful suggestions rather than actual laws.] today i drove through very slowly, taking in breaths of air as though someone were going to turn off the oxygen soon. the crickets chirp. i turn off the radio so i can turn up the soundtrack i really want to listen to. the soundtrack of summer. crickets chirping, gentle breezes rustling the leaves of the trees, the occasional hum of an air conditioner. at a stop sign, i close my eyes for a moment, trying to remember everything about that very moment. the sounds, smells, colors, everything.
i try for one last puff on the cigarette, but it's gone out. they never last, i say to myself. then i realized that's what a moment is all about. savor it. savor those times where you are all alone and there's nothing but you and the wide, vast world. take in deep breaths of air, drive slowly and take in things you've never noticed before. thank god you're alive, healthy, and happy. don't shout it. think it, feel it. moments like those are far too rare to cheapen with heavy-handed words.
i get to my neighborhood and suddenly snap out of my reverie. the air is still, the air conditioner now sounds like a machine gun. i'm startled to find out that it's 12:45. i've never lost myself like that. i step out of my car and try to lose myself once more, but it's over.
those moments, they never last.
it's not much.
it's the flat, rolling landscape of Indiana farmland, dotted with the occasional silo, silhouetted against the night sky. the colors were so beautiful it might have been from a watercolor painting. a deep, deep blue sky and the midnight black of the trees, silos, and houses. but this landscape, to me at that very moment, was the most beautiful thing i'd seen in a long time. it literally took my breath away. i slowed down considerably, taking in the rest of the scenery. i'd driven down this same road hundreds of times, but had never noticed how pretty it looked at night. i crawled down the rest of the road, seeing things i'd never seen before. it was as though i were on a completely different road. i turned onto smokey row road and experienced the same sensation of discovering a whole landscape i never knew about, or more likely, never noticed at all.
i was completely absorbed in the moment. my mind was incredibly lucid. i wasn't worrying about gas prices, ex-boyfriends, money, anything. all i could fathom at that moment was the beauty of the world around me.
i've always generally regarded greenwood, indiana a rather lackluster town. it is a typical midwestern suburb; moms drive their minivans with jesus fish stick-ons and sports bumper stickers around streets lined with every franchise known to man. crime rates are low. for every bank, there are 2 churches and for every gas station there are 3 mcdonalds. a mall. a handful of real, honest-to-goodness farms, and a smattering of parks. it's the kind of town that's small enough for everyone to know everyone's business. i used to dream of living in a big, important city, but i now love greenwood for those very same small-town nuances. even though i love the town i call home, i take it for granted. i drive down roads with my foot to the floor, concentrating on nothing but the quickest way to reach my destination. i don't often enough, as the expression goes, stop and smell the roses. in fact, i leave them in the dust of my tailwind. i don't stop and take in the beauty of everything around me. i don't just savor the feeling of being alive often enough.
i draw in a breath of the crisp summer air and decide to take the shortcut through willow lakes. everyone who has attended center grove high school that has a driver's license can drive this shortcut blindfolded. i usually swerve through the neighborhood at fast speeds, tapping my breaks at stop signs, and the like. [in case you haven't noticed, i kind of regard traffic laws as helpful suggestions rather than actual laws.] today i drove through very slowly, taking in breaths of air as though someone were going to turn off the oxygen soon. the crickets chirp. i turn off the radio so i can turn up the soundtrack i really want to listen to. the soundtrack of summer. crickets chirping, gentle breezes rustling the leaves of the trees, the occasional hum of an air conditioner. at a stop sign, i close my eyes for a moment, trying to remember everything about that very moment. the sounds, smells, colors, everything.
i try for one last puff on the cigarette, but it's gone out. they never last, i say to myself. then i realized that's what a moment is all about. savor it. savor those times where you are all alone and there's nothing but you and the wide, vast world. take in deep breaths of air, drive slowly and take in things you've never noticed before. thank god you're alive, healthy, and happy. don't shout it. think it, feel it. moments like those are far too rare to cheapen with heavy-handed words.
i get to my neighborhood and suddenly snap out of my reverie. the air is still, the air conditioner now sounds like a machine gun. i'm startled to find out that it's 12:45. i've never lost myself like that. i step out of my car and try to lose myself once more, but it's over.
those moments, they never last.
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