road trip

When we started the trip down 95, snowfall muffled sight and sound but the road appeared clear enough to proceed. Later it became the kind of day when cataracts of cloud cover allow you to look directly at the sun. Farther South in Connecticut the sun had ditched its clothing and flirted with veils of clouds or ripped through tree banks. I could tell the road was wanton, or was it the sun, blaring straight ahead, then suddenly disappearing and emerging far to the left or the right, briefly flaring through pylons and power plants, plunging below hillsides or rising above bare trees . We wove home that way, dancing with the sun that flooded our eyes even as the cold beyond the windshield could draw tears, beholding the light as did all that came before us and all that will come after. It's what eyes were drawn for.

Home again, the challenges begin. No more snapshots from the shotgun seat.