Open Country


My window keeps fogging up and I don't understand why. It's clear at times and then it fogs again and I can't see where we are going.

I don't know where we are going. 

He's driving and I don't care.

All I care about is that I'm in the seat next to him and I'm going, too.

But my window keeps going fuzzy and the heat of my breath blows back in my face.

There is an open road ahead of us and I'm squirming in the passenger seat. He tells me to be calm, but I'm not sure I can. An adventure with him is all I need. I'm too happy to settle down.

His window doesn't fog up. But mine does. The closer I get the less I can see and I so badly want to see.

Bushes race past, there is pavement beneath the car running away from us. We push forward and follow the road, up over a hill. Around bends and curves. And I think I'm going to be sick. He sees it in my face and he tells me not to dare. 

My fogged window is rolled down.

Fresh air! I love fresh air! I feel it swimming over my face, through my lungs. I'm flying, but he's with me, keeping me grounded. He takes hold of me so I don't fly away from him. The fresh air. I can't imagine anything more divine and freeing as fresh air.

With my head out the window it becomes too much.

I sneeze all over the dash, his hand, the radio. He makes a noise and wipes the snot on my coat. I don't care. Fresh air is all I need. It makes the sick go away, my ears fly back, my lips to quiver. It's the kind of thing that makes a dry nose wet. 


That's all I need in this world. Fresh air, adventures, and him.