Driving in the Dark

Everything is poetry if you squint a little

Oct 23, 2022

Hello friends,

I woke up at 5:30 this morning to take my dad to the airport. I put on a quiet playlist, and we began the twenty-five-minute drive in the pitch black. Driving in the dark with little traffic always feels a bit otherworldly. With fewer cars, each one sounds more distinct. Headlights slash through the darkness in contrast to the repetitive glow of street lights. The pre-dawn quiet permeates the car.

I repeatedly lost myself in reverie as I drove. When I reached the start of the Courtney Campbell Causeway, the speed limit increased to 60 miles per hour. I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter to keep myself awake. Driving over the bridge only increased the perception of flying through space. The almost-new moon offered no light to scatter over the waves, and the bay disappeared beneath me.

On the other side of the bridge, I dropped my dad off and made the loop around the airport to get back on the highway. The trip home passed much like the trip there. The sun remained hidden, and the artificially lit void cradled me and deposited me back in my driveway.

I went inside and straight back to bed. I didn’t wake up until almost noon. Even though my eyes are now open, this morning's haze remains. It feels less like haze, though, and more like surrender. I am not as vibrant as the sun outside, but I exist beneath it all the same. I flow in the same cycles as the seasons and the tides. Tomorrow I will be something new.

Until next time,
Yardena