Saturday, April 20, 2013
R is for the Road
She looked over the map and pondered her next move. North would take her up into the hills and likely some spectacular views. South would bring her down to the the river front and the tranquility of the water's surface. She glanced a view both ways and marveled at her good luck on the day.
She couldn't have chosen a more beautiful scene if she was painting it herself. And this was just the beginning.
She opened the door to her busted old cadillac with the rusty bottom and it squeaked at her in protest. The plastic seats had long tears in them, the carpet had darkened several shades from the gold it had been when he father first purchased it and there was a smell akin to barbecued skunk faintly wafting up from the back seat. It was a dumpy vision if ever there was one. But it ran. And it would take her down the road to an endless list of places she'd only ever imagined visiting.
She slid the key into the ignition, patted the dash as she willed the old motor to turn over and sat back contentedly when it purred to life. She had her car. She had the road. And, for the first time, she had the ability to determine her own path, all by herself. It was all she needed.