Left hand on bottom of steering wheel, right hand turning ignition. She hastily shifts into reverse, a nervous glance into her rear view mirror. Silly to be so scared.

Why was she so anxious tonight? No seat belt, as usual. This time, she has a reason – recent surgery. Should I even be driving? No one else asks these questions. Not like it matters. Not like I matter.

Festive holiday lights seem terribly out of place on this evening. Where did September go? Somehow she missed the Homecoming dance, Halloween, Thanksgiving. Minutes, miles, memories pass much more quickly when you’re not looking.

can you imagine when this race is won
turn our golden faces into the sun
praising our leaders we're getting in tune
the music's played by the madmen

The unlit streets and haunting melody fit together perfectly. She knew she needed her high beams, but she never turned them on. She knew she needed a lot more, but she was doing all she could.

And that one question haunts her still. Why? All too often, she doesn’t bother to remember. She forgets the kitten chasing her feet, the boy who holds her and makes her paper from dried rose petals. She forgets the sun and the warmth.

so many adventures couldn't happen today
so many songs we forgot to play
so many dreams are swinging out of the blue
we let them come true

Maybe it’s the next track, key and meter change. Maybe its the scent of burning wood stoves in the night air, or something beyond her totally. But she remembers, and that’s all that matters for now.