Gravel Road Driving

With the windows down, the crunch and pop of the gravel moving from under the tires is louder and more vivid.  My nose tickles from dust in the air.  The powdery cloud billows behind the vehicle, catching the sun and filtering it from my view reflected in the mirror.

I usually hate that this piece of junk has no decent radio because if I'm driving, I'm singing.  But the sounds of the drive are a strange comfort, like a long lost teddy bear from my past.  From their perch on the fence posts, birds chirp and sing for me as I pass by.  This immersion into a not-so-long-ago time is healing.

Out of the corner of my peripheral, a doe raises her head from munching on the beans.  She looks healthy with her shiny brown coat gleaming.  I'm sure she has fawns hidden somewhere nearby, maybe even at her feet with the height of the beans camouflaging anything under four feet tall, a perfect place to play hide and seek.  She pays me very little attention, knowing she could outrun any attempt I might make to get to her.  The mama can relax.  I have no intention of messing with her today.

I'm driving with no real destination.  I'm taking in the moment with no time table of "when" to push me faster.  If I wander here, maybe I can find my way in the world a little easier, a little better, tomorrow.