Beep, pull, slam, twist, slide, adjust, click, whir.
That was the order of sounds heard as the truck
started up for what could very well have been the
millionth time, though this time, a new person
dawned the title of driver.
Sixteen is the ripe young age that someone can
first get their license, and in the driver seat sat
someone with the freshly printed receipt that
insured the license had been ordered.
That paper represented freedom, a chance to
escape the house in the midst of a pandemic,
to seek out time alone so desperately needed when
you are locked up with three other people and a
pet for months upon months.
And so for the first time, the young sixteen
year-old pulled out of the driveway with no one
else in tow, a glorious moment indeed. The truck
jolted up the hill, its sensitivity something new to
the driver.
The sun was setting as the drive began. Out on
the roads, music was cranked up and the
destination remained undetermined. Still
cautious, a mirror was checked and double
checked, going 5 under the speed limit at times,
other times 5 over.
However it seemed the destination was one that
was well traveled, the church that laid host to
educating and shaping the drivers young mind in
its much earlier years. The church, “a second
home and family.”
The church, where in its parking lot it held a
bike-a-thon for it’s students year after year; and
had trikes, bikes, pedestrians, and scooters circle
its pavement yard.
Now parked alone in the lot, lay a truck. Within
the truck, is the driver, bewildered that the drive
had gone as smoothly as it had. On speaker is
the mom, listening to the child’s words as the tale
is recounted of the first time alone.
A wonderful tale indeed, one so mundane in
structure, yet it seems one of the happiest days
to break the monotonous cycle of school and
schoolwork. These moments, where not much
happens but emotions lay strong, had the most
impact.
And so, pulling back into the home driveway
once again, our little adventure finds its end.
Though the drive had concluded, the story had
not, anytime now our young driver can find the
roads, for peace of mind, for destination, or for
that freedom we all so dearly desire.
Tell me, how does freedom feel, sixteen year-old
driver?
Blissful truly and beautifully blissful.
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