21 September 2013
Even thought it's late, you don't want to sleep.
Slipping into the evening past 10, 11, midnight is delicious, a sin without vice, a familiar shirt you've forgotten about. The daily leash slips away, and you just want to stay awake and savor the darkness, the black pressing against the windows, the sudden chill, the deep night frigidity, the sudden sense of freedom, of possibility. Jumping a car and driving someplace, anywhere -- Nebraska, the Wyoming border, or down south to the deserts of New Mexico seems impossibly romantic. The silence, as palpable as silk. Whatever music's playing seems deepened, even more resonant, and a tacit partner in plans.
It's time to go. To head out, and forget whatever's at home, at the hearth, and see where you end up.