Two one hour drives in the clouds.
Occasionally kissing the earth with its drops of rain.
The open road is always full of possibility.
In my perfect day, the possibility presented itself in shades of color. And lack of color as well. Both are beautiful. A reflection of all possibilities.
My dad collected the tiniest branches and made a little fire.
All great things start with the smallest things, he told me.
Our little fire was in a stone circle from a recent campfire.
All great things are built upon things from others, i told myself.
