Boston
Inspired from this entry from thedailywriter
Word count: 756
---
It’s probably 5AM in the morning, but I can’t take my eyes off the road to glance at the car’s radio clock. My best friend, Lloyd, is with me, and he’s just as wide awake. I think it’s because the highway we’re on, or maybe it’s the freeway, has this continual path of lights. That’s normal, but they are awfully bright, bright enough to light up the 4 lanes completely.
“This reminds me of Boston.”
Lloyd’s eyes are closed, but he answers me, “You’ve been to Boston?”
“Yea, I was born there. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Well, Boston Hospital, maybe? At least in my mind, I was born there.”
“Yea, you were born in Boston.”
“No, well, it’s not actually written on my birth certificate that way.”
“So where is it?”
“45 minutes away.”
“From Boston?”
“Yea.”
Silence relapses and all we can hear is the steady hum of wheels on the road. It kind of feels like an airplane without that stuffy passenger air that dries out your nose.
“Are we there yet?” He asks, and I laugh because it reminds me of the Simpsons. That stupid phrase will always be associated with those stupid yellow people. But, I can’t say anything, because I’m yellow too.
I laugh again and try to explain my train of thought to Lloyd. He opens his left eye followed by his right.
He blinks at me through my peripheral vision.
“Fei, you have issues.”
“I know, so do you.”
“That’s why we’re heading home, right?”
“Sure.”
“Ya know, going home this time feels different.”
“Why, you’ve been back three times already.”
“Yea, but I’m going back as the final product. Lloyd, as he will be for the rest of, maybe 50 more years. This is going to have a lasting impression for me.”
“And the other times haven’t?”
“I’m going to remember this time.” He says this with a definitive tone, and I know exactly what he means.
I take a few seconds to look at him. I’ve always wondered how drivers can just turn their entire face away from the road to the passenger seat, and I do it. It’s not all that hard, my hands just stay still. At least, for this highway, I can manage. I turn back, and nothing’s changed. Well, now the road does look more gray than black.
“When are we going home?” I ask.
“In a month.”
“Right. We’re heading home now too.”
“Just for a visit."
"Hey, do you remember that one park where you fell off the slide and got sand in your eye?”
"Yea, vaguely, the park by our middle school? Man, I hated those elementary kids. Always hanging around, trying to pretend they were cool enough to be middle schoolers."
"Well, it was their playground, of course they were hanging around," I offer.
"Maybe. Why?"
"We should go again. I like the swings there."
He doesn't say anything, and I wonder if he's even listening anymore, so I decide to change the subject, “I wish we could move.”
“What, like apartments?”
“No, I mean, I wish we could move our homes closer together.”
“Oh….yea.” He says this in a care free way. I don’t think he gets it. “It’s only a road trip away, really.”
“Then why haven’t we been back in so long?”
“Because we left it for a reason.”
“And what’s that?”
“So we can come back.”
“And?”
“Say that we left?”
I laugh. “I think you need some sleep.” But he may be on the verge of understanding something
that even I haven’t tried to wrap myself around.
He says to me, “Fei, do you figure your hometown as the place you lived most?”
“Lived most,” I repeat. “Yes.”
“How do you figure that? In years?”
I don’t answer him, because we both know what it is. Or else we wouldn’t be heading to Chicago; we wouldn’t even be leaving our apartment at all.
I want to say something meaningful for the moment, before the silence eats it all up, and is replaced by a different moments’ silence. My mind is tired from driving, maybe. I glance at the radio clock and it reads 7AM. I turn it on, because we’re both still awake. Lloyd wouldn’t be bothered by it even if he was asleep.
“Good morning, it’s 7:01, are you driving to work? Heading to school? Well, we’ve got some great music ahead to get you through the day. And if you’re just heading home, relax. We’ve got some good tunes coming your way.”
Word count: 756
---
It’s probably 5AM in the morning, but I can’t take my eyes off the road to glance at the car’s radio clock. My best friend, Lloyd, is with me, and he’s just as wide awake. I think it’s because the highway we’re on, or maybe it’s the freeway, has this continual path of lights. That’s normal, but they are awfully bright, bright enough to light up the 4 lanes completely.
“This reminds me of Boston.”
Lloyd’s eyes are closed, but he answers me, “You’ve been to Boston?”
“Yea, I was born there. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Well, Boston Hospital, maybe? At least in my mind, I was born there.”
“Yea, you were born in Boston.”
“No, well, it’s not actually written on my birth certificate that way.”
“So where is it?”
“45 minutes away.”
“From Boston?”
“Yea.”
Silence relapses and all we can hear is the steady hum of wheels on the road. It kind of feels like an airplane without that stuffy passenger air that dries out your nose.
“Are we there yet?” He asks, and I laugh because it reminds me of the Simpsons. That stupid phrase will always be associated with those stupid yellow people. But, I can’t say anything, because I’m yellow too.
I laugh again and try to explain my train of thought to Lloyd. He opens his left eye followed by his right.
He blinks at me through my peripheral vision.
“Fei, you have issues.”
“I know, so do you.”
“That’s why we’re heading home, right?”
“Sure.”
“Ya know, going home this time feels different.”
“Why, you’ve been back three times already.”
“Yea, but I’m going back as the final product. Lloyd, as he will be for the rest of, maybe 50 more years. This is going to have a lasting impression for me.”
“And the other times haven’t?”
“I’m going to remember this time.” He says this with a definitive tone, and I know exactly what he means.
I take a few seconds to look at him. I’ve always wondered how drivers can just turn their entire face away from the road to the passenger seat, and I do it. It’s not all that hard, my hands just stay still. At least, for this highway, I can manage. I turn back, and nothing’s changed. Well, now the road does look more gray than black.
“When are we going home?” I ask.
“In a month.”
“Right. We’re heading home now too.”
“Just for a visit."
"Hey, do you remember that one park where you fell off the slide and got sand in your eye?”
"Yea, vaguely, the park by our middle school? Man, I hated those elementary kids. Always hanging around, trying to pretend they were cool enough to be middle schoolers."
"Well, it was their playground, of course they were hanging around," I offer.
"Maybe. Why?"
"We should go again. I like the swings there."
He doesn't say anything, and I wonder if he's even listening anymore, so I decide to change the subject, “I wish we could move.”
“What, like apartments?”
“No, I mean, I wish we could move our homes closer together.”
“Oh….yea.” He says this in a care free way. I don’t think he gets it. “It’s only a road trip away, really.”
“Then why haven’t we been back in so long?”
“Because we left it for a reason.”
“And what’s that?”
“So we can come back.”
“And?”
“Say that we left?”
I laugh. “I think you need some sleep.” But he may be on the verge of understanding something
that even I haven’t tried to wrap myself around.
He says to me, “Fei, do you figure your hometown as the place you lived most?”
“Lived most,” I repeat. “Yes.”
“How do you figure that? In years?”
I don’t answer him, because we both know what it is. Or else we wouldn’t be heading to Chicago; we wouldn’t even be leaving our apartment at all.
I want to say something meaningful for the moment, before the silence eats it all up, and is replaced by a different moments’ silence. My mind is tired from driving, maybe. I glance at the radio clock and it reads 7AM. I turn it on, because we’re both still awake. Lloyd wouldn’t be bothered by it even if he was asleep.
“Good morning, it’s 7:01, are you driving to work? Heading to school? Well, we’ve got some great music ahead to get you through the day. And if you’re just heading home, relax. We’ve got some good tunes coming your way.”