Some Writers Pick A Topic And Write

I Wasn't Ready For This, But Then I Probably Never Would Be, And This Year, Like So Much Else, Wouldn't Wait. I Had No Choice But To Get Out Of My Car, With Everyone Watching And Begin In Earnest, Alone. So I Did

I Drove Off, With My Friends Watching Me Go, All Of Them Grouped On Lissa's Hood. As I Pulled Onto The Road, I Glanced Into The Rearview And Saw Them: They Were Waving, Hands Moving Through The Air, Their Voices Loud, Calling Out After Me. The Square Of That Mirror Was Like A Frame, Holding This Picture Of Them Saying Good-bye, Pushing Me Forward, Before Shifting Gently Out Of Sight, Inch By Fluid Inch, As I Turned Away.

I Wondered If He Ever Thought Of Me, And Hated The Pang I Felt When I Told Myself He Didn't.

I Eased Back On My Elbows, Tilting My Head Back To Look Up At The Sky, Which Was Pinkish, Streaked With Red. This Was The Time We Knew Best, That Stretch Of Day Going From Dusk To Dark. It Seemed Like We Were Always Waiting For Nighttime Here. I Could Feel The Trampoline Easing Up And Down, Moved By Our Own Breathing, Bringing Us In Small Increments Up And Back From The Sky As The Colors Faded, Slowly, And The Stars Began To Show Themselves.

It's Not Forever', She'd Said, But To My Mother, It Might As Well Have Been. She Had Make Her Choice, And This Was It, Where She Felt Safe, In A World She Could, For The Most Part, Control.