I am getting ready to go to my dad’s house; so is she, since she has to drive me over there. We pile my stuff into the backseat of the car. I claim shotgun to myself, as there is no competition. She pulls out of the driveway, and turns on the radio; it is on the alternative rock station we both like: STAR 98.7. We are now on the main road. A song we both like begins to play, and we both sing to it, she a bit out of tune, but I do not mind; the fact that we are singing together at all heartens me.
Outside, large, somewhat angry looking clouds loom overhead, but there are still good patches of sunshine falling through. The clouds do not bother us; they add to the atmosphere of ‘carefree-ness.’
It is a wonderful picture that I paint. Mother and me, singing to a contemporary song on a mutually liked radio station. We are both wearing sunglasses, tapping our fingers in time to the beat. These are the times I love, these picturesque moments in my life. They make for great short descriptive passages. I tell her that we should do this more often, and she says we need a weekend to ourselves. I am happy with that.
I also tell her that times like these motivate me to write about them.
She says that’s a beautiful thing to say.
