Going South

I'm on the road right now, so I only just remembered that it was Wednesday, and I haven't even had time to hunt down a good WPW prompt. I'd almost feel like a slacker, except for the fact that I've been busy doing things like driving half way across the continent to move my brother from Colorado to Florida. We're in Mobile, Alabama tonight and we'll be in my brother's new home tomorrow morning. For my part, I'll just be glad to see the last of the moving truck. Thanks to the long drive, I'm going to skip my usual WPW fare tonight and, instead, jot down a bit of description. If you're unhappy about this, blame my brother ;)

Between losing the mountains, gaining humidity, and the change of dialect spoken by the people we meet, I hardly need any reminders that we're far from home. The change has been gradual. Bit by bit the roads flattened out as we hit the plains, and the air grew heavier and heavier with extra water. Today stepping outside feels the same as stepping out of a long hot shower in my closed bathroom at home. Except, it feels hotter.

Sunshine and humidity wrap themselves around me and remind me of a summer a few years ago when I lived here. Now, driving through this country again, seeing road-killed armadillos again, brings back the memory of driving the highways in the middle of the night as fireflies splashed against the windshield. Everything, even the air hugs me as I breathe it. The drive is black on green, asphalt butted up against lush, crowded trees.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a dirt road come off the highway. A mailbox. The dirt road isn't a road after all, but a driveway that leads back into the trees which push so close together that they hide what's behind them. Back home, the land is dirt and scrub and openness. Here, the trees make secrets of houses. My imagination starts to run. Those trees, so thick and dense. Anything could be behind them.