My car? a roomier version of a purse or backpack Front seat holds a stack of new books I've got first dibs, but only if I can't find kids who want to read them first
Folded windshield sunshades (needed all year in Texas) stuffed between said seat and console where there's a stack of empty gift cards a prayer card a green rosary S. made two years ago a work badge on a floral pink lanyard
On the back seat floorboard rests a recycled grocery tote bag full of recycled grocery tote bags another bag still holds black velvet flats a blue tulle skirt white tights a black satin sash black leather sneakers and a long, blonde wig from last month's comic con event
Somewhere underneath those bags is a black drawstring backpack donning a half marathon logo eight years past a rolled up yoga mat three pairs of sunglasses
In the way back sit three bags of outgrown clothes (mine) meant for a thrift store I pass every day on my way home remembering they're back there as I pass the light
It was a good day for a road trip. I didn’t take one, but it was a good day for one. Where would I go? Another book shop? A hike. An hour long drive on a hilly, winding road, dotted with bluebonnets to get to Sweet Berry Farms for strawberry picking and homemade ice cream? Around here, summer already flirts with spring and it’s only been a week. Would I go to a new to me barbecue joint, those that make the best-of lists I tend to ignore? Do I go north or south or east or west?
Instead, I stay put because it’s Sunday. I clean out one corner of the garage, emptying out a box of old books I’m finally able to part with, except for a yearbook. I thumb through it. Do I keep it? The clock reminds me it’s time to pick up my teen from our neighborhood pool. “Can you give K a ride home?”
I take the short drive to drop of the friend. Pull into a tidier garage, shut the door behind me, and get on with my Sunday, because there isn’t much of it left. It was a good day for a road trip if Monday didn’t hover nearby.
Nerds Beget Nerds 