twenty-something

Four years ago, during my second summer in Burlington, at the age of twenty-one, I would often take long drives on the long, less-traveled Vermont roads to cool down and to clear my head at night.

Four years ago, I was in the midst of my first real relationship, the one with my rarely mentioned ex, Joe. We had started dating that January and fell in love shortly thereafter. That summer, he graduated from college and things became... complicated. I'll save the sordid details for whatever comes after 90s-Something, but needless to say, I was in Burlington while he was home in Massachusetts, and I was caught in a cloud of turmoil and confusion.

I would often find myself on those Vermont roads, driving without a destination, stretching out in to the evening and night, easily three times a week. I explored Spear Street and the like, speeding though Shelburne, Charlotte, Hinesburg, Richmond, Essex... hypnotized by the pavement and all the green, taking in the smells, escaping all that was weighing me down back in Burlington, and Massachusetts, the trappings of my life. Every night I would ask questions but never find answers from the roads or the trees, wondering both "What am I going to do?" and "What the hell am I doing?"

Tonight, the world suddenly cooled from our recent "heat wave," all still covered in rain though the showers had stopped a while before, a fog rolling in with dusk, I hopped in the borrowed car sitting outside my apartment and drove to see where it would take me.

I ended up on Spear Street, of course, and I ended up in a trance. Still too reflective of my quarter-of-a-century milestone yesterday, still contemplating future moves, both literal and figurative, I found myself in a much more stable place than I was some four years ago, but still, maybe, just as confused. The new question was "Where do I go from here?" The answer was as unclear as my direction or destination on that drive as I whizzed down the road, more inside my head than in the car, leaving new mansions and old trees in my wake.

Before long, I found myself at a place I'd been many times before -- a four-way stop in the town of Charlotte, eyeing the sad-looking gas station across the way. As I woke from my driving trance, I remembered that every time I've come to that place, that very stop sign, on all my many drives that have lead me to Charlotte in the past four years, I could never decide which way to go. I think I'd gone each way at least once, but all I could think of were all the times I just turned around in the gas station's parking lot and headed back towards Burlington.

At the crossroads I'd been many times before...

It started to sink in as I realized that Kelly Clarkson's "Breakaway" was actually playing, at that very moment, on the radio.

I just stared ahead and blinked.

Take a chance, Make a change, And break-aaaaaaa-way...

And then I said aloud, "You've got to be kidding me."

So unbelievably cheesy, all of it, and I had to groan. So symbolic that I almost gagged. Yet I still found myself frozen, aware of my path for the first time since leaving my apartment, unable to decide whether to go left, right, or straight.

A car honked behind me and, flustered, I quickly chose left.

Left brought me down a long road I didn't remember and, eventually, I found myself pulling over at the first appropriate spot I could. I had intended just to turn around, but I felt compelled to stop for a second and dig my water bottle out of my bag. In doing so, I realized that everything had turned to night and, in the bushes right outside my open window, were a swarm of fireflies. Now, I don't know that fireflies swarm, but that's what it felt like. There were just dozens of them right there, blinking away at me, so beautiful.

I hadn't seen that many since I was five. For a moment, I considered dumping out my water and collecting them in my empty bottle, bringing them back to my apartment, and waiting for them to magically turn into pennies while I slept.

I didn't take any fireflies with me, but I left after a couple more minutes of watching them. In those minutes, I realized I've got to stop taking myself so seriously. That way leads melodrama and making Kelly Clarkson profound. No, I gotta do more that makes me feel like I'm five years old again. With a smile and a three-point turn, I hit the long road back to my place.

I'm glad I turned left.