The sun is just beginning to set, caught in those few minutes where the sky is the most vivid. Like colored tears draining into each other, a golden eye open for just a moment before it's gone.

I drive home with the radio all the way up, the windows all the way down. And this time when you cross my mind, I let the wind take the breath from my lungs. I can't say for sure whether I make any noise at all, only that the speedometer is approaching eighty and the sound of the radio is vibrating my seat.

Nothing we did was ever loud.

I drive by the water, you know it's not on the way home, but I do it anyway. The seagulls outside the car circle and swoop, cawing at the light as it slips away. They drown out the music, somehow, but I still hear your voice in my head, begging me to stay.

You never saw the ocean. Not with me, anyway.

I turn the car around, backtracking until the roads are more familiar. Not that I don't know this town, but some streets I've been driving down since I was in a car seat. This is the path back home. In a sense.

When can you move back home? I hold a hand out the window to catch the breeze, remembering the first time someone asked me that. My new boss, as a matter of fact. And my father shortly after.

Home, as if it isn't still across the country with you.

I try to turn up the radio, but it won't go. I have to stop at a light and a wrinkled man and a woman hidden behind a sunhat look at me. The man's mouth frowns deeply, moving in unintelligible complaints. I wonder if there's enough sunlight left to see the trails the tears have left on my face. Or maybe I look too normal, I never was very good at getting emotional.

This is only a step backwards, is what you told me.

But how could I promise myself, I muse--foot on the gas, goodbye old man--to the life you wanted? Now that my brain's cracked open with the thought of you, it's seeping out through my skin. I feel like I'm burning from the inside out, knuckles white and my every cell remembering how you used to touch me. Hold me. Cry with me. You wanted a family. You wanted a stable life in a stable town. You wanted to fall in love, and we accidentally did. Are you sorry?

I am.

These roads are winding, narrow. I could just about navigate them with my eyes closed. Everything here's just as I remember it, down to the smell of water, the soft dirt. The distant sound of traffic and tree limbs hanging over the road, almost close enough to touch. Like a bubble with every point accessible from the center, just nothing beyond. Contained. Or waiting to pop.

I park the car in the garage. The radio is off but my mind is filled with deafening roar. I still picture what it'd be like to walk through the front door and have you greet me. A fantasy, but my mind itches for it. Instead, I greet the silence.

I only wonder: does the silence greet you, too?

I was driving home with my windows down and the radio blasting. It had been two weeks since you ditched me for the more popular group of girls. We grew up together, you were my best friend. I guess you weren't as attached to me as I was to you. Instead of sticking by me, when you saw an opportunity to join them you took it. It leaves me wondering if you hesitated at all or feel any remorse. I cried a lot that first week but slowly that sadness and hurt dissipated, leaving only a numb acceptance.

I had just been driving back from the beach when our song came on. The one that we always sang together as loud as humanly possible. I almost pressed the button to skip it but hearing it made me remember all of the good times. It was then I realized, what good would it do to pretend we had never been friends? Why should I get rid of things that made me laugh or be happy simply because you are in those memories? It wouldn't help me to hold on to anger or resentment about our lost friendship.

On this drive I finally found myself moving on. You were there during my hard times when I was young. I know if you come back I would forgive you but I've decided I won't forget. If you want my trust back you'll have to earn it. You were a part of my past for better and worse.

I'll miss who you were and see who you are now, but never once will I pretend that we barely knew each other. People can learn from their pasts and their mistakes. So I choose to learn from you and what you did to me.

Today, I drove home with the radio all the way up, and the windows all the way down.

And this time when you crossed my mind, I could not hear you screaming at me.

I saw your mouth moving, telling me I was no good for you, but all I heard was the heavy, heavy metal of Metallica thrashing away to “Sad But True,” an apt description of our poor excuse for a relationship.

Back home, you keep telling me our union was the “biggest mistake” you ever made. But guess what – on the freeway all I could hear was Shaboozey belting out “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” amid the thunder of traffic and broken exhausts. Oh, and car horns from mad motorists telling me to turn it down.

Then a Stones oldie came on, and I cranked up the volume and my miles-per-hour even higher. And trust me, honey, I’d much rather listen to Mick screaming “Honky Tonk Woman” than you hollering at me.

Drat, then I heard a siren through the tunes and saw a cop in the rear view mirror. That was OK by me, because if somebody is going to tell me shape up, I’d rather it be him than you.

Later that afternoon, I drove to our house and you were waiting for me at the door. You held a checkbook and asked, “How much this time?”

That song came on. That stupid song. The wind whipped through the cab of the car with enough force that it all but drowned out the lyrics. It ripped my hair free from my bun and stung my eyes. The singer's voice drifted into my ears.

Chocolate hearts from CVS When I'd declared that song our song, he loved it. He bought me chocolate hearts in the arms of a cheap fuzzy teddy bear that was slowly losing its fur from a Walgreens down the road from my apartment.

Kiss you too hard He did it to make me laugh, and it worked.

And follow you west I moved thirteen hours north the summer after my junior year in college and finished my degree online. He came, too. Whenever our song came on, he's sing louder over the song and replace west with north.

Sing you sad songs on a Sunday afternoon Sundays were my long days at work, a ten-hour shift that usually lasted eleven hours. I'd go to his apartment and flop on the couch. He'd pull out his guitar covered in fading stickers. He made enough to buy a better guitar, but he never did. I could have listened to him all day. Sometimes he'd sing me right to sleep.

Tie you in ways that you can't undo I could feel his breath against my neck and in my ear. His hands would run up and down my arm in a gesture too intent to be casual. His eyes were so blue, his lips set into a perfect grin.

Dinner in bed and Korean food I didn't like Korean food. I didn't know until he bought a few takeout containers. He was always a fan of trying new and authentic foods. Only occasionally would we stop at a good old American diner. We only got Korean food once.

Say I love you just a little bit too soon I did. It was too soon.

I yanked the aux plug from my phone and rolled the windows up. The burning in my eyes didn't go away. Neither did the thumping of my heart or the aching deep inside. If I had never told you I loved you, would you have stayed? If I had only waited, would we be living happily in that apartment in Madrid you always dreamed of? Couldn't you give me a chance to slow down? I would have waited forever for you.

today, I drove home with the radio all the way up, and the windows all the way down. and this time when you crossed my mind, I didn‘t cry.

I turned up “the promise” by When in Rome, our song, and shed not one tear.

isn’t that crazy?

you had lived in my mind for so long I never pictured a day when you’d be gone.

but today that day came and it went.

pulled over and tried to hold back, I hopped out of the car and puked behind a reddish colored rock. ugh I tried to keep my mind off the rest of the drive home and turned the radio to a different station. Luckily I made it home without any more...feelings-the word stings my tongue--but after getting home.....

well,

that's a different story.

Slipping my arms under the belt,

Carefully stringing the polyester gently

Across the lap that sat on yours,

The belly that quaked with laugher

As I squirmed away from tickles,

I strapped in your oldest grandkid.

I smiled instead of frowned. This song playing wasn't upbeat per say, in fact, it was kind of menacing. But the wind whistling through the windows went well with the tone.

Instead of mourning the time we no longer had, I cherished the times we spent together.

You crossed my mind as I drove along the deserted road because this was a song I could see playing in the background while we were together. I don't know if we were good for anyone in those moments, and I don't know if we're better now.

But with the windows down and the endless roads, I have time to think.