Remember driving out that long road to the lake?
I hear it’s gated after dark now and that during the day, someone in a uniform charges by the car, trailer, and boat
But, remember when it was open and the movie or bowling, ended early, or we just didn’t have anything else to do?
We’d drive out to that empty parking lot by the boat launch and park as far away from that single poor-excuse for a street lamp
Taking our queue from every stereotypical teen movie, we’d park the car and sit on the warm-from-the-motor hood, leaning against the cool-from-the-drive windshield.
The dry summer heat was pushed away out there by the lake water smell – like mildew, motor oil, and rain
and a flimsy evening breeze
And the stars were brilliant everywhere – and facing into the lake: reflected
It seemed in those moments we were floating
Dark and dreamy
at full attention
soaking up every detail of the world around us
as it melted into the Milky Way.
Bright sunshine through the windshield
three pairs of sunglasses
one foot out the drivers window, two feet on the dash, two out the passenger side.
The only ones awake in a house full of silly sideways sleeping teens
Off to get donuts in a truck named Cody
fighting over music and singing along regardless of who wins
bands that no longer exist – and maybe didn’t even a year later
and bands that have outlived our morning tradition
closest shop two towns away
but the sweet taste of freedom and friendship was worth the drive.