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Midnight Drive From Nowhere

July 6, 2012

Sitting in the passenger seat of her blue Volvo 240 wagon, the wind animated her hair–hair that had lost all other life from the days of excessive heat and humidity. She was tired, wilted in the swelter. I clutched and shift into fifth gear, turned and see her happy and content.

The tassels of her deep brown locks swirled around her neck and face as disorganized as  the rest of the world that had also wilted into a disarray.

We didn’t mind. There comes a time in the heat wave when you just give up, realize that the starch in your shirt means nothing after a couple of minutes outside; that the potato salad might just be better left behind; that as hard as you try to protect yourself between the air conditioning of home and car or between car and work or wherever you are going.

Content with our state of disassemble, we sat wordless, headed to her home—or mine, from somewhere—I cannot remember. The destination was defined more by our momentary glances– caught in between wafts of breeze and a passing car much more in a hurry than two lovers fine with each others’ company.

Later, we would lie limp in bed, too hot to spoon, too hot to sleep, but not to hot to trace the space between us with a finger, a light touch through the heavy air.

What did we talk about? Religion, politics, the kids. The future. The past. The present.

The next morning, we wandered out the door, aimless, bearings confused by oppressive stew of weather. Maybe a shower before we found our first appointed stop, unable to tell, neither by how we felt or by memory, whether we had taken one the night before.

In this morning, I could not tell if we are happy, content, thrown back into the real world, unable to put off the facts in this start of the day. Unable to procrastinate those things that are so easy to forget in a cloud of a love. We would find that place of forgetting soon enough in each others’ eyes, arms. And maybe a little bit of bravery to talk about those things, and religion, and politics, and love, and the kids, and work, and all those things that make all the questions that surround them so hard to answer.

Happy and content in our mortal, humble ignorance and relative wisdom. Happy to shift into neutral and let the rest of the world be in a hurry to solve the problems that have no answer.

5 Comments leave one →
  1. Melanie permalink
    July 6, 2012 12:18 pm

    This is adamantine Clarence. A perfect gem. I like it a lot.

  2. Trish permalink
    July 8, 2012 5:36 pm

    I felt myself relax as I was reading this Clarence. Beautiful.

  3. July 14, 2012 8:06 pm

    Autobiographical fiction. Poetry. Found delightful memory. Barbershop philosophy. [as is what happens at the barbershop is not to be worried about, because it will grow out in a few weeks and you get to try again.]

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