I drove to the coast last weekend.
There's something about getting away that feels incredible.
And also makes you really happy when your car pulls back into your driveway.
Driving long distances makes me happy.
It's one of the only times I sit and just listen to music.
And sing.
And stare at the stars.
On my drive back, it was so late the stars were dancing alongside my car.
Part of me wanted to pull over on the highway and lay in the grass and just stare.
They don't have stars like that back home.
The stars above my apartment are timid and distant, like an old college crush who would never even poke you on Facebook.
Oh but these stars.
These stars were what poets wrote sonnets over.
These stars beckoned and sang out, willing you to stay right where you were.
Soaking in their shine.
But like most of life, though a part of me wanted to stop, another part wanted to drive on.
The song that was playing I didn't want to stop.
And my kitten and my bed also beckoned me.
So I tilted my phone towards the sky and with one tap catured the diamonds shimmering in the sky.
Except I couldn't.
Because the lack of light that made the stars so brilliant made it impossible for me to capture it.
And then I smiled.
Because life is perfect in its contradictions.
Always wanting both what's ahead and behind us.
Wanting to be present and wanting to be alone at home.
Wishing he was in the car beside you and grateful to be free.
Thinking of him.
And him.
And also him.
And knowing happiness exists with all of them.
And everywhere.
And somethings surpass capturing.
Some things can only be.
As they are.
Felt in all their glory by one soul.
And that's completely captivating.
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