My Winding Wheel

In a truck stop, some where between Chicago and the Michigan boarder we sat beside the van, backs against it, legs on the hot pavement. It was late in the evening, dusk. The sky was pink and red and purple. The air was finally starting to cool and the windows were down, doors open. The voice of Ryan Adams accompanied us.

It was the last leg of our trip, our adventure. We'd be home in a few hours, before we would see the sun again. Long before the sun actually. Some one sighed. I didn't need to look to know who it was. After two months together, we had become accustomed to every habit of one an other, every mannerism. Even the way we'd breathe, sigh, or say nothing at all.

Ahead of us the highway continued on for half a mile, but seemed to disappear beyond that. His sigh could have been my own. No, it was mine. It was ours.

The sky was a mystic shade of blue, deepening and beautiful. Not eerie as I once found them; the nights were comforting. Not always seeing what was in front of me didn't turn out to be as frightful as I thought. Nights had become a blessing. But this highway was well lit. I closed my eyes.

No one spoke, only reminding me of how things had become. Despite the lack of words I knew what they were thinking. All five of our thoughts could have been one. I knew I wasn't mistaken because an arm draped across my back, hand resting on my shoulder. I let mine return the gesture.

The tire I sat back against was still hot, as was the ground and my skin. August heat was always torture. I would be lying if I said I hadn't noticed, but I didn't care. The heat bugs, hidden in the trees, whistled off in the distance. Crickets chirped in the high corn fields around us. But the loudest of all was the hum of cars and trucks disappearing half a mile down the highway.

A transport truck pulled into the parking lot. Ryan Adams' voice ended. Album done. "Let's go" one of us said. We all rose to our feet, all with hesitation. We took our time to get settled in, to shut the doors, to put in a new CD. But finally we did get moving. We merged onto the highway and stared straight ahead. I noticed what was wrong, but didn't want to say a word.

"We're supposed to be driving East."

"I know."

In front of us the cars drove on forever, never disappearing, not fading off into the distance. The road never seemed to end.

"We're driving West."

Long silence.

"Oh," there was no surprise in his voice, "I guess we'll have to turn around at the next exit."

We were all smiling. The road seemed to stretch on forever.