30 minutes of driving.
Enough time for about 10 songs. Sometimes the same song on repeat 10 times.
Some mornings tears prick at my eyes. Triggered by words strung together and put to music touching my heart in a way that’s a little too close to the surface.
Some days I count every mile, and sometimes I arrive at my destination with minimal memory of the drive.
Some days the sun is shining, and I sing out loud.
Some days I ride in silence, my thoughts racing… creating a whirring of their own. My heart races, and worries rise to the surface.
Some days I can’t stand the alone-ness. So I call anyone I think might answer and talk to them until the car is in park again.
It is my time. I treasure it and loathe it at the same time. I look forward to it and dread it all at once. It is mine, even though the destination is always theirs.
The morning commute.