It's finally past 5:30 again - This time that I find myself doubting the arrival of, every weekday of my life. Somehow I know the universe has decided to to skip it and I'll be left here, rotting on my swiveling chair, in limbo, forever. But come it does, saving my sanity upon arrival. I'm on the freeway with my speedometer pointing to the big 80 toward the top of the 3/4 circle on my dash. Because I speed. I speed away from home in the morning and then straight back to it, hours later, just after 5:30 pm.
I look at the clock and I smile. 5:36. I smile because any minute past 5:30 means freedom. All of the minutes and seconds I waste and breaths I take past 5:30, I waste and take them freely.
My windows are open. The sweet post-summer air envelops me, waltzes through my hair and over my skin and sends every movable object around me into an excited frenzy. I feel the sun, kissing my cheeks in an affectionate hello. She's golden and cordial and encouraging us all, in direct contrast to the merciless white-hot of the months behind us.
I look around to all of the other people, driving in their boxes of metal and plastic and wheels and wonder what they're thinking now. With their windows up. With their speakers muted. With their hands securely inside of the vehicle and not dancing outside of their window doing air waves. That's where mine was, and it felt like heaven. A happy chill went up my arm and onto my shoulders and I about combusted right then and there with delirious adoration for this season. This promise of Autumn. This reverent celebration of the natural order of things. Of finding our way back to the ground, to our roots, to the dust from whence we came. This big breath, this sense of clarity before the haze of hibernation.