I’ve noticed lately that I spend a lot of time missing things.

Tonight, on my way home from work, it was just me, the road, and the bright blue moon.  The backs of my hands glowed as they rested on the steering wheel, and I wondered who forgot to turn the lights off Upstairs because it almost felt like day – a day devoid of color other than soft indigos and aquas, but still light, somehow.

I usually pass a few cars on this stretch, but tonight the highway was eerily desolate – as lonely as a highway gets at 2 in the morning.  The feeling of isolation didn’t get better when Seger’s Turn the Page came on the radio, I kid you not.

On a long and lonesome highway
East of Omaha [And I am east of Omaha.  Way east.]
You can listen to the engine
Moanin’ out his one note song…

And it suddenly occurred to me that, no matter how much I don’t like this town or am antsy to move on, I’m probably still going to miss this road one day.

Much like I miss roads I’ve hated before.

Nostalgia does wonders for sour memories.

This I know.

This road is amicable, loyal, and has never failed to take me where I need to go.  And even if I’m no longer here several years down the line, I’ll be damned if this road doesn’t stay almost just as I left it.  Running from my house, to the bar, and back again.

One day I’ll turn the page on this portion of my life.  But this road isn’t going to budge.

And that’s somewhat comforting to know.

Cracked cake batter sky – Not the same moon from tonight, but close.  I took this photo from my back deck in November, 2010.