22.4.11

a traveler's solace

      Slender, frail fingers pulled the folds of her coat tighter, the faintest trace of autumn's kiss lingering in the air. Long after the thaw, trampled and sodden leaves haunted the landscape, the first breath of spring having yet to revive the once-verdant ground. Far above, clouds hesitant, then reluctant, then finally refusing to part kept the sun hidden from view, scattering its light across the endless sea of gray. And in all this, the wind, filled with winter's memory, tugged at the folds of her coat, slipping between buttons and slender fingers alike.
      She'd been driving north for hours, sunrise having kissed her goodbye, bidding her luck in sating her wanderlust. The clouds had kissed her, too, not long after, squeaking windshield wipers joining in the rhythm of raindrops pounding upon her car, unrelenting yet never malicious in its tone. Absent either, there came a lonely peace across the horizon, made all the more profound by the rolling hills before her now. What a place for a rest stop, she thought, lost in the patches of green reemerging in the distance.
      It'd been years since she was last there, his breath still lingering in the smell of the air, as memories drove by on the highway below, driving the same beat-up sedan just behind where she stood. Only a few more hours to go, she remembered thinking, casually slipping another CD-R into the slot, time and time again. That's only three more albums, right? There was always a special one, the one she saved for last, another's squiggly handwriting caressing its surface, full of songs that would make her heart skip a beat, then another, growing in frequency until only minutes from his door...
      Another car pulled into the lot, an older couple with a much smaller mess of hair in the backseat, its tiny nose pressed tightly against the window. She pretended not to watch as the newcomers stepped out, her eyes subtly shifting from hills to the man with the perpetual frown, eyes hidden behind deeply tinted glasses, trying desperately to keep pace with the shaggy mess bound to his wrist by a strikingly red leash. Stretching beside him, a heavier, perpetually smiling man kept his eyes upon the horizon, the frigid wind not so much bothering him as greeting him, playing with the hairs of his great arms and beard. Taking their time for all it was worth, they called back and forth to each other, just far enough away to not be heard, save for the laughter rolling gently across the hills.
      Lost somewhere on the horizon, the familiar sound of inside jokes and gentle playing tickled and teased her weary ears, broken only by the sudden echo of doors closing, shortly before the revving of a tired old engine. For a brief moment, she thought to wave, only to see through the passing glass two sets of eyes that could only see the world around them, the trees and hills and excited little dog alike, the scenery to their own secret story. She recognized the look, hidden in those songs that would stop her heart only to set it pounding again, in the smell of the air and the memories happily driving below.
      She smiled, losing herself in the sudden solitude, her short locks tousled by the winter's lost breath. Only a few more hours to go, she thought, leaning back and looking into the sky.
      And by the time she stepped back into her car, she could not tell if she had been stifling her laughter or quietly sobbing.

No comments:

Post a Comment