It’s winter, mid January, though it’s some 60 odd degrees outside. Even though it’s 6 o’clock, the sun is out, slowly setting over the tree filled hills. Bringing daylight somewhere else. Locking the industrial doors behind me, leaving the cage I’ve known as work. I feel free, no longer a mold of myself. Striding off to my wrangler, inhaling the unusual warmth. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was the beginning of summer. Key in the ignition, takes a few choked tries until it finally turns over. Sublime blares from the speakers, I go nostalgic. Taking me back half a year to summer. It’s strange, how half a year can feel as though it was only yesterday. Lost in the memories; the music, the parties, the places, the people, and you. Instinctively I turn my head towards your house, a quick trip through my mind plays out all of the twists and turns, hills and fields that lead to it. So tempted to take that drive, though that was a different time. I drive home, and let the memories flood over me. The windows of the wrangler are open wide, hair blowing through my hair, caressing my face. I wonder about you. What you’re doing now, though I can predict the answer. Half a year ago, I’d be sitting in the passenger seat, and you’d be in control. Taking me places, taking me heights, I’ve never been before. The blaring of a horn behind me snaps me to attention. The light changed to green, it’s time to go. To move on. Home.