Take A Ride

The slate grey clouds are darker than the twilight sky, and the trees, with both graceful and gnarled branches, stand silhouetted against the dusk of night. The houses whirl by with golden lights appearing in windows, shadows moving behind curtains. The glass is foggy on the inside, so I write my name in cursive, which I've just learned, and then I draw a heart beside it. Pleased with myself, I smile outwardly, and catching a glimpse of my reflection, I make a funny face.

The memory stops there, but I often go back to it. It is simple, and at a time in my life when I didn't have much to worry about. I've always loved car rides, as long as I'm the passenger. The world feels muted and I become mesmerized by the scenery blurring all around me. My mind feels pleasantly, unchemically buzzed, and all that I hear is white noise, tuning everything out. I welcome being outside of my head with it's twists, turns, and constant commotion. I don't find that very often anymore. I scrutinize every move that I make, putting myself beneath my own microscope, and more often than not, falling short of my own expectations. Where did that little girl go? The one who could find humor in her own funny faces. I know that she has to be somewhere inside of me, buried beneath all of the fears and insecurities that have accumulated over the years. She has always been the brave one, and here I am, still running scared. She lived through the terror, holding it inside day after day, and as I grew older, I gave my voice away. Now I've found safe people with whom I can speak my words, and when it all gets to be too much, I can take a ride.