Coast

We drove to the coast last night. The signs read: Pismo--140 miles. It was 11 pm. I drove on the way there, weaving my way through unfamiliar roads and midnight countryside. Lora and Jenny and I talked. We talked about boys, we talked about love, we talked about life. We listened to Ben Folds and Michelle Branch. The lines on the road glistened in my headlights, and the dark unknown whizzed by. Semis lay slumbering by the side of the road, their engines silent and their cabs dark. I glanced out of the driver's window, and saw stars. Real stars, dotting the sky like fresh snow. We drove through the fog and emerged at the beach. I drove slowly through the small town, trespassing on its silent sleep. Shops were closed, the streets deserted--it was 2 am. There was the beach. And there were the cops--of course the beach was closed. We kept driving and found it--our own little private beach, complete with spooky noises, crashing waves, and heaps of kelp tossed on the shore. It was cold; the sand stuck to our feet damply; we were glorious. Stress, tension left in my shoulders by school and life and home melted away into the crisp starry night and joined the crashing waves in their tumbling freefall. We sat by the drainage pipe and talked, but we mostly just listened. Listened to the crash of the breakers, the whisper of tide at the shoreline, and the peace that lingered in the air like a perfume. There!--a shooting star. And another. We left that spot at 3 and Lora took over the driver's seat. Then we hit fog; thick, soupy fog that obstructed the road and fogged our windows up. Using good sense and a defroster, jenny and I helped Lora steer off the road and jenny took over. The icy air rushed in the car as Jenny drove. Finally the temperature was regulated(no more foggy windows) and the fog lifted. We drove through Santa Margarita and found the only gas station there. No way were we stopping there. We kept driving, ignoring the gas gauge in good faith that Atascadero was coming soon. We made it, stopping only for gas, an energy drink, and a bathroom break. And we were off, Lora back in the driver's seat. We drove, not talking, just listening to the music. And then--"I can't see the lines anymore. They're all blurring together." I was back in the driver's seat. Jenny slept in the back seat and Lora and I talked--about boys, love, life. Lora fell asleep, I tried not to. And here was Fresno and school. It was 6 am, and at that moment, life was perfect.