The Driver in Retrospect
The backseat was my cradle.
I don’t remember the first ride or many
after it.
I remember the roads, the canyons, the
freeways.
It is both a blur and all so clear.
On the long drives, from say LA to Phoenix,
it was often like a dream.
Josh and I would be sleeping in the
backseat.
Mom would be sleeping in the front seat.
And you just drove.
Whatever happened on the way, the angry
honking, passing cars on narrow lanes, you did it.
You were never lost, an uncanny sense of
direction and memory for every road.
All drama to the contrary, while she was always angry at
you for maneuvers she would never be capable of, we always got to our
destination.
May 15, 2015
