I learned to drive taking the wheel from my father’s loose fingertips. He laughed, somehow knowing that I was not fully aware of the places it would take me.
Most of the time, I don’t need a vehicle or loose fingertips to get me anywhere. Not anymore.
Suddenly I came to her doorstep, not really sure if I was to knock or leave a letter in the mailbox. I think I may have done both.
Under a pale incandescent light (which had become the nightlife for fellow party bugs), she opened the door. I was invited in kindly. She teased me with her smile.
Grabbing hold of the loose finger tipped wheel once again, I soon realized I was chasing something I could never catch. I think for a moment now, there may have been the same thought process shared and entertained between us.
Never to be reasoned with or pursued to a full potential. Now, I need a vehicle.
Written for and about a close friend’s twin sister. She now resides in England
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