With some lollygagging and disrespecting the navigator in my phone, I was fed, relaxed and the car was gassed up when I pulled in to my driveway about 5. I just had to get off the freeway!
Before I did, I passed a huge tractor trailer all done up in a magnificent graphics wrap. I didn't have the wits to drive and snap a picture. It was the equipment transporter for the Stoneman Douglas Band - the Eagle Regiment.
As I passed it, I stuck my fist through the moonroof in solidarity and the driver acknowledged with a blast of the air horn. I was filled with an as-yet-unnamed feeling. I'm sure the French have one perfect word. It lifted me up, away from myself for a while, but then I couldn't help but think about the families, the loved ones left behind.
Then came the tristesse. I rolled with that one and let it take me to tears. Everytime I travel, I have the sudden realization that Jimmy will not be waiting for me when I get home. That's a facet of myself as real and permanent as a tattoo.
4 comments:
The fist in the air1
The realization of coming home to absence.
(((((sighe)))))
he was still there, though....wasn't he. Like he always was
Your words bring me to tears--every time
(((Deb)))
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