We had a good snow this morning. Not so much that anything closed down, but enough to cover everything and make people slow down a bit on the drive into work.
I've been recovering from the flue for the last few days and for some reason I prefer silence to any amount of noise when I am not feeling well. So the radio is off in the Jeep and I find myself driving to work with a much more patient flow of traffic listening to the rumble of the road as it rolls past. The temperature is comfortably cool and I can hear the tac-tac-tac of the wet rain splashing on the window as I go.
This reminds me of memories when I was a kid dragged to some family function in hours away, everyone stuffed into the car in winter coats. My family is full of talkers, but eventually the car would become silent and foggy from breathing and I can remember feeling restless, roadtrips feeling more like sitting in a dentist waiting room. Most of the roadtrips would lead to the house of my mother's parents where you could either play with the golden retriever or maybe sit and draw, if some paper happened to be left out. My parents would immediately dive into adult conversation and my job was to entertain myself without touching anything fragile, which meant sitting in the finished basement not doing much of anything. I was so impatient for something to do, and I never saw the value in simply enjoying the silence between the busyness.
As I ride down the road today, oh how I would love someone to force me to sit in a car for a two hour roadtrip to nowhere where I need to sit in silence and listen to the hoypnotic rumbling of the road.