my turn to drive.

The first thing I noticed was the way occasional spots of bold red interrupted the endless spread of greens and jaded golds on the hill. Rain makes colors less shy. I let the drops fall on the windshield for a minute before switching on the windshield wipers. They were falling slowly, not intimidating, not intrusive, like they were trying to stay in the background--like they were trying to whisper. Chan was sleeping, his head in Britt's lap, and Britt's eyes were closed, her head leaning on the window, pressing her ponytail against the pane. Ivor's hat was pulled over his eyes, and his arms moved up and down with his chest slowly and evenly, and I knew he was asleep too. "Blue Moon" started playing from my mix, this version in Mel Torme's syrupy, perfect vocals. I looked at the trees and the raindrops while I listened. I slowed the car a little bit. I was glad that they were asleep and that my mind could enjoy the song and the trees and the slow-falling water all by itself without any commentary or jokes or little games that keep restless travelers occupied on road trips.