It was 326 miles, round trip; roughly three hours each way—long enough to roll the windows down, turn the music up to damaging decibel levels and sing—safe in the knowledge that no one could hear.

There was time enough to marvel at how shockingly smooth things have been going lately. Since Christmas or so, I suppose, my life has been on a general upwards curve—but in a way, that was to be expected (or at least, the part-optimst in me wants to believe that given the law of averages, only so many bad things can happen at once—eventually, something will turn out). But part of that was really only a shallow illusion, which, I am embarassed to admit was largely brought on by the appearance of a male distraction.

We've gone our separate ways now, though, and in some ways, that's given way to a much more pure contentment. I know it's not some stupid flirtation that gives me an extra spark when I get out of bed, and I know my problems haven't evaporated. But somehow, I'm fairly confident that things are going to be ok in the end.

Of couse, there's always that nagging voice in the back of my mind—waiting for the bottom to drop out, the other shoe to fall, the shit to hit the fan or an army of cliched bad things to come marching in. It probably will, eventually. But for now, I am hoping that if I just turn the music up loud enough, I can drown it out.

previously | http://parenthetical.org/ | next