In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Boundaries.”
A line between the road and the water, a guard between the drive and the drop. Guard rails provide a boundary to keep us safe, to guide our way.
Driving in the early evening, behind a transport truck. The light reflects just so, making an almost-heart on its back doors.
Love is everywhere, if we keep our eyes open.
We were out of town yesterday, purchasing a new vehicle.
When we left to return home, it was raining. In a split second, not halfway home, ice pellets were flying at us seemingly from all directions. Minutes later, the ice pellets turned to snow, erasing the road in front of us.
There was nowhere to pull over, no way to turn around. So we inched ahead, holding our breath each time a tractor trailer blew by.
It was twenty minutes that felt like twenty hours.
And such a relief to arrive home.
There is so much to see while driving: the road a crevice in the landscape of trees, the expanse of blue sky above, snaking rivers below.
I enjoy the ride as much as the arrival.
Music and conversation fill the car. Scenes slip by on either side of the road.
The moment I loved the best on this ride was the music coming from the back seat: Our children singing a duet from “Teen Beach Movie”. My husband and I sat grinning in the front seat while they sang song after song, word for word.
This is the moment I will remember.