Tears and Joy
By: Gen1900
Chapter One
I’ve never been in a really new car before, but when it finally came around, I was excited.
My parents rented a 2018 Nissan Rogue for the wheel-trekking trip to Montana. Seeing the black leather interior, and the shiny gray exterior never gets old.
If a bird about the size of a whale spotted our car, it’d snatch it away. I heard stories of birds stealing compact mirror, rings, necklaces etc.
In my mind, I dubbed the Rogue the, “Galaxy”. I don’t like Star Wars that much. Yes, I know what you’re thinking right now, reader:
“How can anyone not love Star Wars?!”
I have my reasons.
To the present, I sit writing in the middle seat; my butt inching closer and closer to being high on the sore meter.
Dad’s driving the Galaxy.
Oh, there’s a hilarious story I just have to share.
Dad and I were driving the Galaxy home from the rental place, and Mom right behind us in our faithful 02′ Chevy Venture van.
As we were entering our town, Dad suddenly groaned in frustration.
“These head rests are uncomfortable, ” he grumbled.
“Want me to adjust it?” I asked with a hint of a smile.
“Yeah if you could, ” he said. His stubble chin craned to touch the middle of his neck.
I tried to latch the cushion higher up, but instead the whole thing came off.
Sheer panic registered on my face.
To my astonishment. Dad appeared perfectly calm. In fact, he was chuckling.
“Will it go back on?” I asked. The part rested in my lap.
“It will . . . wait turn it backwards, and see if it’s better, ” he commanded.
I flipped the cushion, sliding it easily into the two holes.
He leaned back to test it.
“Okay, I guess, ” Dad remarked.
The head rest has stayed the same since.
I have been sitting in the Galaxy for sometime now. Two short stops were made along the way.
We’re in the flat, lush green state of North Dakota.
Mom’s driving the Galaxy now as a strong shower of rain blasts the road like bullets puncturing metal.
Dad normally never lets Mom take control of the steering wheel, but he stares in front of him . . . calmly . . . collectively in the passenger’s seat.
The sun has seeped through the wool blanket, casting a shimmering gloss on the young corn fields.
I’m glad the rain has stopped.
North Dakota looks pretty, yet I see another sheet of darkness creeping . . . waiting to cry.
I am fascinated by storms, as long as they don’t wreak havoc on my world or other people’s.
Many years ago ( in Wisconsin), my family and grandparents were going to church.
The clouds darker that night itself, and lightning flashing constantly. Fiery red darts crackled in the sky.
“As long as it stays in the sky,” Grandma mumbled wearily.
As soon as her words spilled out, a huge bolt of electricity struck a neighboring . . . on the skirts of a ditch. We were very close to that ditch.
As I write now, you see rolling hills spotted across the almost barren land. The clouds are so close you could almost scoop a sample of one.
I want to run and yell till my lungs burn. I sound like a maniac, but this country places a spell on you.
If only I could get off my butt and explore it. It’ll happen . . . eventually . . . it better.
Another black abyss is approaching.
My adventure never ends, but I’ll continue it tomorrow.
Narrative Nonfiction
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Your travels are interesting and your story with your Dad is funny, thanks for sharing.