Homecoming

Driving home from a football game. Gone wrong may be an exaggeration, but it takes 5 minutes of walking back to the car for the headache to fade. We finish an embarrassing conversation that leaves me wondering if I've said too much.

The blinker clicks. I mutter under my breath. I try not to take my turn too sharp and end up in the opposite lane; I successfully turn. I had told her before that she could put on music. Now, soft guitar fills the car, accompanied by her voice harmonizing and her fingers dancing up and down in the air as she follows the notes. Her hair is an apricot orange, lit by the golden hour autumn sun. Leaves float down from the trees and rush towards the car, skimming the windshield. She lets me leave the windows down.

It is the rushing of the wind. It is her voice lilting as she sings. It is her small, happy laugh when I offer my hand at a long red light. It is my headache fading. It is my insecurities lifted. The earth whirs, but my mind is calm.