Just me and my convertible, white with black, eyes wide with soft top down. It's near about midnight. Summer, of course. My season, my pal, my spirit animal. I'm alone with myself, which often was most rewarding. This song pours from the speakers and I smell lavender swirl in the air above my head full of long and blonde strands of goldenrod. I see him in my mind's eye and contemplate turning around and driving back home. Tap on the break, then decide against it. Tap instead that 'rewind' button that takes me back to the beginning of the song. I drive on and on and on, to no particular place, and it was only ever out of sheer exhaustion from the day and having no place else left to venture that I ever returned home again, back to the beginning, my roots. Nobody ever waited up, or demanded to know where I had been. I had a free pass my whole life growing up, pretty much, and it was blissful and lonely all at the same confusing time. Staying out late enough to be able to watch the sun come up some of those summer mornings gave me a new kind of hope that one day I'd surely leave, never to come home again.