I ask myself what I need, but the silence sits heavy, like a weightless answer that’s missing its shape. I don’t know—truth be told, I don’t know anything these days. It’s that low, wistful hum from an indie song that finds my ear, whispering softly, “Before evermore.” She’s right, I suppose, but I turn away, choosing the long road ahead, the dusty farm road stretched out with no deadline, just time to think.
Suddenly, I’m not here anymore—I’m back in their old ‘88 Sedan, that limp string tied to the air vent waving in the breeze as we jump over hills, a car full of friends, and the wild rush of youth pounding in my chest. That feeling, like when he made my heart race, like that one summer, the one that carried me from seventeen into eighteen. My head was bursting with dreams, roads untraveled before me, but in the end, I stayed behind. I stayed safe. And sometimes, on days like this, I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d taken that road less traveled. Would the blood still rush like it did then? Would I still be chasing those dreams?
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 