moments – transit from Niagra, 2

There was a time, maybe 5 hours into the drive home, when I wasn’t sure if color existed in the outside world anymore. Every expanse of the ground was white, the trees I sketched outside the window as black and lifeless as the asphalt we drove on, the sky colored an unending grey. The road seemed endless to home, where all the work I had ignored all weekend awaited
It wasn’t until I looked back inside the car and saw the magenta of Freedom’s sweater, took out my headphones and heard the laughter of my now-friends who had kept me so warm all weekend, that I really believed the world had color again.

moments – transit to Niagra, 1

February 2017

the road to Niagra Falls

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Taylor Swift & Wicked blast from the stereo of the rented minivan where the four of us excited almost-strangers are about to embark on our journey. Classic CDs, courtesy of Steve, a soft-spoken English grad student, who I learn is uncommonly adept at capturing good band names.

We drive through the sunset that Friday afternoon to reach St. Catherine as early as possible (meaning 2 in the morning). White, blue, purples, and pinks cloud the horizon, but slivers of a faint orange sky shine through. Red brake lights & yellow headlights shine as we drive further through a flat, endless dusk 

We share stories, the music closest to our hearts. I had no idea how much they would mean to me. We sing, carrying on, full of hope, though lacking sleep. Slow ballads float through the mom van, as headlights filter through the rain and windshield wipers 

I lie down in the back, wrapping Lukas’ jacket around my arms, thoughts about love && the universe playing in tune with the music, their softly-spoken words passing through  my mind