We left Ohio early in the morning, it was still dark, but you let me sleep while you started our drive to South Dakota. When I opened my eyes I could see the window was cracked, and the sky was already bright with the sun's rays. I closed my eyes--not there yet, not even close.
I sat there, listening to the wind whip passed the car, and tried to pretend I didn't notice it blowing my hair into my face. I thought sleep would overtake me again, but I couldn't give into it. I was too aware of my sticky back and sore neck. I sat up, shaking off the last of my sleepiness and turned to you. A smile started on my lips...I can't seem to keep it away for long when you are around.
You turned and looked at me with those squinty eyes you do, and you pushed your mouth out a little to one side as if to say, "Oh hey. Where have you been my whole life?" My heart leapt. You always get this gleam in your eye when you look at me that way that puts my heart at ease, because I know you are happy, and I am happy too. It is a funny happiness, a contentment that is fleeting, but unmistakable in those moments that it comes. All of our circumstances screamed discomfort, but in those moments when it was just us two gypsies, driving to the next city with all we needed crammed into the trunk; in those moments we did't need anything else, and those moments breathed a contentment into my heart that it had never felt before.
We drove for hours. The AC in our car was (and still is) broken, so once I was awake we put both windows all the way down trying to move the heavy air around as much as possible. Our shirts still clung to our damp backs, and I felt sticky under the humidity almost the whole way, but it wasn't too bad. We cranked the music up high, chewed on sunflower seeds, stuck our feet out the windows and sang at the top of our lungs. You made me laugh, and never got impatient with me when I had to stop so many times to use the bathroom.
The sun set somewhere over Iowa. It was the end of June and summer was in full swing, so I welcomed the coolness of dusk. The colors in front of us were fiery and bright and as we drove I wished I could stop the sun and have that sky forever.
For the next few weeks we would live amongst people we will most likely never see again, and it was sort of satisfying to know that for the next "x" amount of time all we had under that great big sky was each other, that everything else was superficial, and temporary. We relished in the dry heat of the big South Dakota sun, and I dreamed of summers at home in Nevada. Living that gypsy life alone I can't imagine to be very fulfilling, but that gypsy life with you was a dream. I have always felt that it has been us against the world, but South Dakota made me believe that with my whole entire heart.