Though every day seems like a nonstop chain of one thing to the next, I can always count on the drive home from my dance studio to save a few minutes of alone time for me. Despite the considerable chunk of time it takes out of my day, the 25-mile drive over the mountain is always welcome in my whirlwind of activities. Between me and the miles, there is only peace.
I consider this calmness as I navigate roads I know like the back of my hand. No street takes a name in my mind, only a direction: to home or away from home. The term home takes a loose meaning, sometimes referring to the place where I will eventually surrender to the pillows and blankets; other times meaning the four walls of the studio I’ve practically grown up in. It is safe to say that both have given me their fair share of love, comfort and safety.
One arm hangs loosely over the steering wheel; the other sits propped on an elbow on the center console. My movements are minimal in the absence of traffic, and I stir only when necessary to take gentle curves in the road, drive around turning cars, and stop at red lights. My mind is calm and blank here in ways it has never been at work, at school, or at dance. Even the air drifting in the windows is different, somehow sweeter in my solitude.
Cars sweep past in the other direction, headlights blinding and motors whirring. Where are they going? Who are they heading home to? I wonder this absentmindedly as I fiddle with the stereo. The car is my calm place, but it’s anything but quiet. Music blasts from the speakers in a deafening roar, drowning out my questionable singing skills and thoughts that run marathons through my head: I need to call Grandmom back. What homework do I still have to do? Oh man, was that a cop? I’m speeding. I’m definitely speeding. That cop is gonna pull me over and Dad’s gonna kill me.
The nonexistent cop never pulls me over but I’m convinced his eyes are on me until I turn left towards the lights of a familiar gas station. From there it’s smooth sailing, all seven minutes of green and grass and farm. Part of me thinks this town is the reason I can't wait to be at school in the city: when I come home to visit, I’ll appreciate this rolling landscape so much more. Minus the cow manure smell, anyway.
I find myself in the driveway, but I linger in my seat for a final few moments to appreciate the way things are: calm, quiet, blissful even. I am all too aware that a world of responsibilities awaits me but I am ready to face it. The moments we take for ourselves can prove to be some of the most revitalizing, most healing, and most important times of our lives. When you find yourself stressed or upset or just plain annoyed, find a minute for you and you alone. Some time away from the world can do wonders for a troubled head.
