For a variety of reasons, I’ve been driving back home late at night frequently the past few weeks from the LA region. And each time, as I’m hypnotized by the glowing white lane markers, I’m transported to the time the ex and I visited the college for the first time to ascertain its potential as a potential graduate school for both of us. It was a time filled with hope and promise, like the middle of any relationship, when the dark undercurrents haven’t yet pulled you to the depths. But more specifically, I remember being so tired, and just needing her help o get through the last 40 minutes, when the bright lights of LA’s sprawl dissipate and the darkness of the oceanside road envelops. And she gave it; commiserating over such trivialities as the number of State St exits Santa Barbara features on the 101; making up stories about what was out in the darkness and why there were no street lights on the freeway (we had no idea we were driving along the ocean).
And when we finally got to the hotel, sleepy driving crisis averted, we nestled together happily.
Those are the moments worth hanging onto even as the circumstances that created them slip out of grasp.
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