I remember back when I was dating my ex boyfriend. I can remember that drive like the back of my hand. Not that I know the back of my hand that much. But, there was always the same tired glow over this drive in my mind. I remember always have an annoyed thought in my head, “why won’t he drive to see me”. I was only 15 minutes away from him, but in Rhode Island, this is a long drive. I lived in the suburbs so that perfectly lined, fairly similar houses would fade by me and I pulled out of my driveway and down the street. The anticipation of what was to come rushing through my mind like the wind in the fake grass on everyone’s lawns. Suddenly I was on a main road. The pavement always looked new in this part of town, so this 2 minute road would be a beautiful idea in the mind of my cars shock system. Next was a right, a left past the local greasy food and ice cream joint. Then I had 5 seconds to merge into the left lane to take a left turn. This left turn was miserable, it still is. The green arrow never stays green long enough for more than 2 cars to get through, then the endless traffic comes scurrying through the intersection like the herd in the lion king. It was the death of me sometimes, as I had to anticipate an even longer drive to what already felt like an eternity. Once I turned left, oh wow, was it smooth sailing. I was only 5 minutes away from my large suburb and now I was as if I was on these little country roads. The green leaves would swirl by my head and I went 50 on a road that had a speed limit of 35. The speed due to the idea of recklessness. I had a boyfriend, I was driving to his house, noone was around, I was invincible . Now a four way intersection. No One ever came to this part of town. Right in front of me is Knight’s farm. It is a little shop, noone goes to, it almost never seemed to be open, yet it stayed in business. Left turn. Down a hill I pick up speed with apple tree farms all around me. My town was deemed “apple town”, however, it seemed to me we had more houses in the suburbs than apples in these fields. Now I am in his town. I roll into a town that has a beautiful white wooden church. Going down a street in the center of town was the only way to get to his house. It was a cute little town, the kind where you would let your kids run around by themselves and not be afraid anything would happen. They would always have a scituate art festival here, music and food was the main attraction of this event however. This town has always brought me laughter and happiness. Now I get to drive down a road with trees to my left and water to my right. This road twists and turns and seems to go on forever. I would always speed on this road, no cops were ever around, I was never caught. Sometimes going 25 over the speed limit. I am not normally someone who speeds either, I am not a risk taker, but on this drive I typically was. Anticipation I believe made me see these twisted roads as a challenge. Finally I took a left. Right by the ice cream shop in his town. Such an awkwardly placed shop. Nothing around for miles, but an ice cream shop right in the middle of nowhere. I believe it shut down the summer we broke up. Down another hill. Finally the last turn. This turn always had skid marks on it, even after it was freshly paved. I don’t blame whoever put those marks there, I always felt like it was a nice touch. Finally, in the woods, I would find his house. It was a nice house, in fact I believe it was beautiful. It was not beautiful in the typical way. It was not beautiful like a mansion, more like a country home. It had a long driveway. A well right in the front yard. This too was a white house, just like the church in his town. They had blue shutters as well, a nice touch. Whenever I would drive up, their poodle, ty guy, would come to greet me. He was a little too friendly to the car and would almost always get hit. The yard of this house was huge. My Ex’s father had obviously put in a lot of hard work on the house and its surrounding area. I realize now, I will never drive this route again. There will never be a time where I will ever go there. In fact, I have not even talked to my ex since the breakup, we never really ended on good terms. I miss that drive, but I do not miss the reason for the drive. From the suburb to the countryside in 15 minutes, how could you go from something so identical to something so natural. Maybe this isn’t a place in particular, but it is a place in my mind. It is a place that I will never see again expect through memory.
This definitely feels complicated–your anticipation and frustration, your good memories and bad. I like the transition from the suburbs to the country and how the drive itself feels like a “place,” a place you will never go back to.