blind as night that finds us all

is there anything more still than wheels on a black, empty highway? than streetlights and billboards dancing with energy, doing a silent rumba for weary late night travelers? like a shopping mall at closing time, or a grocery store in the wee hours of morning, where everyone, everywhere, has not yet charged to day-mode. i rumbled down I-40 on monday night with a coffee in the drink well and my arm against the robert.

we made our way down to raleigh only moments before the flood gates of rush hour let loose and a million sedans and pickups came barreling our way. we got there early, and ducked into one of our old college haunts, a little seafood shack at the farmer's market. but no one wants seafood on a cold, rainy monday in january. so it was deserted, save a few tired waitresses and an older gentleman waiting for his take-out order.

we drove around campus and looked at the buildings. oh remember when you would meet me there and we'd walk to class together? remember that time you brought me tacos in the middle of the day, and i left class and ate them in the hallway? remember that night we fought under those shade trees? and the morning we met there again to make amends?

it's a four-hour round trip to raleigh from our house. for my night classes. i skype typically, but i wanted to be there in person for our first class of the semester. and he went with me. just like he has before, and will again. because he's good and kind.

it was only when i got to my classroom door that i realized my class wasn't meeting until tuesday.

all that way for nothing.

but on the way home, we stopped for more coffee. and we played music into the heavy fog and made a list on the back of a post office receipt of all the trips we wanted to take this year. and somewhere between myrtle beach and the lake superior circle tour, i stopped and looked at him, hands on the steering wheel, mouth gaped open, laughing.

and i understood the purpose, the divine order, to our ill-planned trip.