Saturday, December 24, 2005
I am finding it very uncomfortable to drive, just because of the welts on my ass and thighs, and it is tempting to stop just to get out of the truck and walk around. But I know that if I tell you I need to stop now, when I really do need to go, you're not going to be happy with me.
So I squirm and wriggle in my seat, trying to find a position that doesn't hurt.
I turn on the radio, softly so I don't disturb your sleep, and find a station that is playing songs of the season, along with a few songs for the sad and lonely - usually my favorite sort - so I stick with it.
After Elvis' version of "Are You Lonesome Tonight" I look over at you, and thank heaven that I'm with you on this evening. But then the silly songs take over, at least for a while, and I find myself singing along as we make our way down the road. Even with the sore ass, I am glad to be making this trip with you. Even with no idea where the hell we're going.
Being this close to you is enough.
So I squirm and wriggle in my seat, trying to find a position that doesn't hurt.
I turn on the radio, softly so I don't disturb your sleep, and find a station that is playing songs of the season, along with a few songs for the sad and lonely - usually my favorite sort - so I stick with it.
After Elvis' version of "Are You Lonesome Tonight" I look over at you, and thank heaven that I'm with you on this evening. But then the silly songs take over, at least for a while, and I find myself singing along as we make our way down the road. Even with the sore ass, I am glad to be making this trip with you. Even with no idea where the hell we're going.
Being this close to you is enough.
