RomanceLove

You Will Always Be Worth The Mileage

I guess I’ll always wish I had a little less mileage on me. Like the wear and tear really doesn’t mean much. I promise I’m still far from falling apart, even though it feels like I’m there on some days.

I don’t think our story ever starts with us having a clear picture of who’s going to be in it along the way, or all the places we’ll pass through before we finally reach wherever it is we’re going. We can be hopeful, though; in the very least, we can be hopeful.

Hopeful that we remain bright eyed with the music cranked up, an arm out the window, racing whatever car we can get our hands on towards our dreams. No matter how dusty she gets, no matter how far she requires us to drive, and no matter who we happen to pick up or let off along the way.

In truth, I’ve lost count of all the dotted lines, all the exits and detours along this road, the countless highways, the numerous U-turns. The destination is the same, but the road there seems to change so rapidly that it’s a challenge just to keep up.

As I was driving past and slowed to a crawl, I never imagined for you to hop in, just look forward without any questions, and trust that we’d get there. And the longer we drove, wherever “there” was and whatever it was supposed to be suddenly started to look different in my mind.

It was nighttime when I picked you up. I’m not sure how you caught my attention, but you did. Something about the way you spoke brought along a sense of calm. I think I had been running for so long, I forgot I was even running. And with you, I forgot there was even anything to run from. A creature of speed, I’ve had a heavy foot since I could drive. But suddenly, I eased on the gas for the first time in perhaps a very long time.

I took in the sight. And it was marvellous. Gentle without being too gentle, soft without being overly fragile. An illumination in the night. There was a little light in you that I only wanted to remain basked in, a warmth about you that reminded me of summer. Of a birth. A little joy, suspended in animation, negligent entirely of time.

I’ll always wish I had a little less mileage on me. But it’s clear to me, as vivid as you are, that I had to drive through all of that just so I could get to you.

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