As I sink low into the seat's warm embrace,
I breathe a sigh of relief and look over at your face.
You gently put the car in reverse and a sheepish grin creeps across your lips as you softly say, "Go ahead..."
Out of my mouth begins to flow all of the thoughts that I've held back for hours now.
I felt as if I was going to explode from holding them in.
You listen intently - laugh when it's funny, wipe my tears when it's not, keep your eyes on the road yet somehow peer into my soul
We debrief about so-and-so's dress and her husband's audacious laugh, the reason I kicked you under the table, and the dog's incessant need for belly rubs.
Was the dip salty to you?
Are you sure my dessert was good? Do you think that they actually liked it? Should I make it again?
Your words reassure me like a gold star carefully placed at the top of my homework page.
I glance forward and feel hypnotized for just a moment by the white and yellow lines zipping past and leading us home.
My gaze shifts back to you as my focus is captured by the song that is lowly playing in the background.
It revives a thought in my head and I exclaim, while sitting up straighter, "That reminds me..."
This is how I preface the crucial account that explains why I did not deserve to lose that game and I am convinced that the host's cousin was cheating.
You chuckle and nod in agreement as your foot presses against the pedal when the green light shines down.
Tonight the drive home is not a long one and I can't wait to slip into more comfortable clothes.
But, I take a moment and soak it all in because I know that this is my favorite part of going out.
Or...
At least it would be if you were here.
Or if you were ever here.
Or if I knew who you were at all.
But, you're not.
You never were.
And I don't know.
So I just jam the gears into reverse.
And listen to a sad song on repeat.
This is my least favorite part of going out.
This is what I admit
As I sink into the cold, lonely seat.