American highway

I drive home late, so very tired, and the sound and fury of tires on pavement lull me into a peaceful reverie.  Time out of time, time and place suspended as I listen to bad pop music and have four full lanes all to myself.  This freeway, ubiquitous product of American rushing and sprawling, could be anywhere.  I imagine myself on I-10 in LA, on I-5 in Seattle, on I-40 in Tennesee.  I am anywhere and everywhere, and for these moments I am alone in the best sense of the word.  I can imagine my mistakes yet unmade, my challenges far in the future, and feel only the love and the goodness that surrounds me, often hard to find under the competing noise of my life's current upheaval.  The motion of the car soothes me, and although I yearn for home and bed and rest, I don't really want to take my exit.  I want to wrap myself up in this moment and this feeling for just a little longer.