letters collide; form words II

He drove north on Interstate-95, looked at some nondescript forest towards the horizon and thought of all the places on earth he wouldn’t see, wondered at what lay behind that far off curtain of branches that stood frozen in time. He thought of Italy, and how he had never been on an intercontinental flight. There was Memphis, which he had visited long ago, and thought of larger cities, all those millions of people he would never meet. There were books too, that he would never read, and as he drove down that monochrome interstate he longed to be reading.

Beyond books, there were times he would never see. Moments he would never hear or read about. There was Jesus, somewhere in the past, and then there was his family somewhere in the near future.

The love he had received through his life made it all okay, he thought. So long as he had love he could make do without the rest.

The desert in Arizona had been his favorite, on that long trip so many years before. He had been 9 and got to trip across the country in a camper with some of his extended family.

“Youngest kid to ever cross the country on that trip.”

His grandma would say.

He thought about death, but also about life, and what lay between. Every moment in time could be extrapolated infinitely in description, he thought, but how maybe there aren’t really words to describe what’s really happening beneath the physical moment. He thought of all the memories he had, and wondered where they would go when he died; all those secrets that make life so sweet. He didn’t think too hard about it, though.

He was focused on thanksgiving dinner, a respite from the monotonous hum of driving and the unyielding sense of yearning it brings.

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