Tunnel Glimpses.
It’s been years. Years. I shouldn’t feel old enough now to say things like, “Oh, it was years ago.” But it was.
New car. New boots. New coats. New goals. New fears. And the same old tears remain hidden in the ducts that reactively respond when I drive past the streets I walked so many times. I walked without purpose, without guilt. The smell of the morning air never made me sick-it made me free.
I tried to find that freedom in my half-blended midnight chocolate shake I sipped as I passed the streets, but distraction overwhelmed and I looked at the same trees, patches of grass, awkward side roads, and idle lights in windows of neighbors I don’t know, but love none-the-less. I traced the way back to you.
You’re not there anymore. This I know.
It probably smells the same. It’s the only thing that’s remained for so long.
I won’t feel guilty for using it as a daily source of inspiration.
It’s been years, and there’s still a light at the end of the tunnel.
