Early Driving

There's something about driving in a car really early in the morning. It feels like I'm awake while the rest of the world is asleep, even though I know that's not true. The cool, morning, summer air lingers around my neck. The only sound is the humming of the highway. The streetlights and reflections play with the shadows, so lights and shapes are dancing around the car. The black sky is only getting darker, and stars are hidden by the city lights. I see the occasional car on the highway, and wonder about the people in it. Maybe it's a family going to visit friends in another state. Maybe there are children sound asleep in the backseat. The horizon twinkles with lights and colors, being blocked by trees and then coming into view again. The bridges and tunnels all around seem abandoned. I rest my head against the window, vibrations running through my cheek. The dark night sky sparks a memory from summers ago...piling into the back of the van with six of my cousins, driving to the cornfields, hopping the fence and laying on the top of the hill, watching fireworks and listening to the crickets. Playing with the damp grass next to my face. Late night talks with my cousin. And I wish I was there again, as that young, innocent version of my self. The one who hadn't had her heart broken, spent nights awake just worrying about the future, the girl who still had hope.