Driving in to Work

Thinking of Mom

I go through seasons in which I go to work *early*. The reasons aren’t important, but from time-to-time, driving in to the office at 3am just feels right.

In many cases, despite a deep appreciation for music, I enjoy a thought filled silent commute . However, this morning, I turned on the radio.

Fleetwood Mac, The Edge of Seventeen.

When I was a kid, I sometimes put my head on my mother’s lap while she drove. I was just small enough so that, despite my positioning, I could lay comfortably without the steering wheel rubbing against my head.

I still have a long ago memory, in Ohio, driving through the night with my Mom, laying on her lap and listening to her singing along with Stevie Nicks. The music turned up, the summer night whisking by, while I listened to her. I can’t remember any care in the world. Just me, my mom and the moment.

This chilly November morning, driving through the Seattle streets, Fleetwood Mac transported me through time. The song, the night — and I could hear her singing as clearly as I heard the actual song.

Mom, I miss you.