There is something special about finishing up a long drive at night, podcasts playing on the speakers and the road stretched out dark in front of you. It’s a heady mix of potential and tiredness, kept at bay with a soda and snacks.
The moon rose over the mountains. I could only see their shape by when the moon was visible and hidden. The moon was a vivid, orange creamsicle color–not that I want to eat the moon, but it’s the only orange I know that’s both light and bright, which is exactly what the moon looked like. It hovered impossibly large, almost in front of me but to the right. It was almost the same color as the sodium street lights around the construction.
I felt alone, even with the occasional car or string of trucks on the road. Not lonely; not dwarfed by the darkness, or by the mountains that I couldn’t see; not lost and tiny in the darkness. Just alone. What was in the dark didn’t matter; only driving mattered, and the podcast keeping me awake and engaged. Moving forward, watching the lane markers hum by, watching the road curve and knowing its path only from the headlights driving in the other direction.