A dimly lit road, nothing but the light from oncoming traffic. To find your way you follow the yellow and the white, the painted lines. Blurred by the rain or speed, they are the compass with which you are guided home.
I often find myself in a very “pondering every little thing and finding the meaning of life” mood when driving along the highway at night. There is something oddly comforting to me about the vast vacantness of the absence of daylight in combination with traffic and headlights. Comforting and yet disturbing in the sense that it puts me in a vulnerable flashback state. I remember driving with my dad, with me in the backseat as I was still in the single digits, and listening to early 2000’s hits. A memory on its way out, almost completely faded but with the familiar surroundings creeps back into my deepest conscience and lingers for a brief moment. There is always an element, at least for me, of homesickness when away from my usual routine. Those occasional times with my father, made me yearn for my home with my mother and grandparents, until a sudden traffic jam would shake me back to reality.
Maybe it's not the memories at all, perhaps its the location. Overwhelmingly, I find myself wrapped up in this fantasy land when driving after hours on a Long Island highway; the place associated with the conflicting memories, the same place I always find myself coming home to. It has always felt more like coming home to a feeling rather than my physical place of residence upstate.
The state of wonderment remains, whether welcomed voluntarily or not, so why resist its presence? Yield to the feelings, the good and the not so good. They are part of your story. Enjoy the magic of the way the headlights blur with the lines on the pavement, a watercolor of your travels. Much like life, in which we try to capture everything with pictures, some moments cannot be preserved. Certain things are meant to be enjoyed and left to wash away after its times has passed. When the car in front of you disappears into the darkness, you follow, then the car behind you, and so on. Eventually, people exit the highway, along separate paths to their neighborhoods, streets, and driveways. Then you are alone again, after the race has been run, speed decreasing, seventy, sixty-five, fifty, forty, and at some point, you find yourself parked in your garage with hardly any recollection of the time that passed while on the road.
In the dark, the universe opens itself up for you…whatever your request. It is your job to know how to accept all it has to offer and let the lines guide you home.
