Although winter has settled in, I like to imagine that the asphalt still holds the summer’s heat. Driving home on sunny days I like to crank the heater and pretend that it’s the summer sun beating through my windows. As I drive, my mind tends to turn to the future. In nine months I’ll be eighteen, and in a little, over a year I’ll be in college. As Hero Way turns into Nameless I see the landscape with new eyes. The rolling hills of the Texas hill country flow by my windows as I drive, an endless sea of cedar trees and long yellow grass. I notice how the tips of the cedar needles are a brighter green than the rest of the tree, and that grass fades from yellow at the tips, to orange, to a dusty brown base. The colleges that I like the best are in faraway cold states. Someday soon I will no longer experience the long, oven-hot summers that I have grown to love. The sharp scent of cedar will no longer float in sun-scorched air. I can only hope that I can find the beauty in unfamiliar, long, icy winters.
cooked up by vision+voice
