As I merged onto the highway, the rain sounded like gravel on my windshield. Cars that weren’t pulled over were driving with their hazards on. Normally a 70mph pace allows you to outrun or pass quickly through a thunderstorm. This four hour drive was different. I had a rain cloud following me wherever I went, like a clinically depressed blob in a Paxil commercial. It was the universe reminding me that the elation of freedom turns quickly to melancholy.
For some reason I didn’t pack for this road trip, opting to just throw my clothes in the back of the car. They sat there in a pile next to an empty carseat like the remnants of an evaporated passenger. I was excited to be travelling alone to a new city to entertain a different breed of stranger. I always think that excitement is going to last longer than it does, but after a nap and a movie at the multiplex, there was nothing else I wanted to do. I had shows at night, but there was a whole day I had to fill, and I’ve become accustomed to having my days filled for me.
When you’re home and people are crying and yelling and seemingly misunderstanding you on purpose, you dream of getting away and spending time doing exactly what you want. It takes having more of that time than you need to realize that it’s over-rated. I’ve been away for 4 days now, and all I want to do is hold up a kid so he can turn the lights off and on. I wish there was someone on my lap right now causing me to add a sggsd”"d442e……n to this post. I’m finding it difficult to write without a 4 year old walking in every hour to ask if I’m done yet. Why hasn’t my wife asked me if I’ve paid the parking tickets?
Next time I’m going insane in my home, I’ll try to remember that I prefer it that way.