fall in love with the person in your front seat.

Hazy eyes, bright lights acting in support of tired travelers, and a desire to be horizontal, resting after a long journey. The old story of interstate travel. Highway lines were passing by, mile after mile, on some trip home from somewhere. I don’t remember where we had been, but it doesn’t make any difference; I remember exactly what it felt like. I fell in love with you, all over again.

There’s a certain magic about being in a car when you’re next to the right person. Stolen glances, fingers intertwined, maybe saying everything, maybe saying nothing at all. Something specific is formed in those moments that binds at the deepest level of the soul. That night, you were asleep. You’re not great at falling asleep in the car, but 11pm after a long day and the passing of mile markers was more than enough.

You didn’t know, but I was driving through every moment we’d ever spent next to each other like this. All of our favorite scenes, some remembered, some forgotten, as we found something new our first summer. Each journey somewhere new, somewhere familiar, or nowhere at all. They’re all gathered together here, pouring out in some kind of dashboard confessional. You’ve stolen my heart, all over again.