All Love Starts in the Backseat...
With a Long Road Trip Ahead...
All love starts in the backseat...
Like how when I first saw you and I wanted to lay you out in the backseat of my car.
That initial attraction!
That initial spark that pulled me towards your atmosphere!
That infatuation! That thrill!
The youth in our love,
like two teenagers in the back seat cruising in the fast lane with the windows down,
hands caressing the wind, not controlling our destination but just enjoying the ride.
Then love turns into backseat driving.
That infatuation breaks and I can finally see all of your flaws.
I'm disagreeing with your judgement!
I'm disagreeing with the pace and route of where we are taking this relationship!
But just as every relationship starts in the backseat,
so will it end...
Filled with compromise, routine, and quotas for Good morning and Good night kisses
until death do us part in the backseat of a hearse.
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
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