April

Written April 2026

Today is April 15th.

It’s 8:15 PM. I’m driving home after another long day, and I’ve rolled the windows down to help keep me awake.

It’s working, but I am still asleep.

My eyes are open, I’m obeying the rules of the road, but I know I am asleep.

The warm air flowing into my car, gentle after beating the state with hot winds all day, does nothing to move me. I cannot see all the colors of the sky, soft shades of the same blue that blend into each other so delicately, softened and framed all at once by the clouds drifting by. The scent of the sun ripened grass, that sweet, sweet scent drifting off of the median beside me, does little to evoke images in my mind of summers spent running across camp or scampering through the woods, always in pursuit of adventure.

It feels like a dream, the gift of early summer. Not my life.

As I turn onto the highway, the wind gets louder in my ear. “Wake up!” it seems to cry, carrying with it the chatter of bystanders who are taking full advantage of this unexpected summer evening. Setting up a charcoal barbecue and grilling something that smells absolutely mouthwatering as the scent drifts towards me. Sharing a group hug outside of some cookie cutter bar-and-grill chain, turning it into the backdrop of something truly heartwarming. The neon glow of a local ice cream place briefly stirs me in its brilliance, bright shining lights illuminating the crowd gathered below. An ambulance sits among the throng, too bright and beautiful to seem real. It almost gets me to open my eyes.

The highway grows dark as I continue on my way.

Distant mountains grow before me, as if to reference the mountains I call home. But they’re rounder, too broad and short to be mine. They’re working hard for the role though, trying to bring forth the image of my own darkened mountains, admired from the window of the backseat of my Mom’s old minivan as we returned from a family trip, or a late-night errand. Somehow those always felt special too, even when they weren’t accompanied by an upcoming vacation or the fireworks of a summer holiday.

I think I may be waking up when headlights appear in my rear view mirror. Bright, new, very very close to my bumper. They have a goal.

I also have a goal, I remember. To sleep, and work the next day, until I sleep again.

The fog of human indecency settles on me like a weighted blanket, pushing me back to sleep as I push my car to speed on, hoping to give my tailgater what he wants. This is what I’m here for, after all. To be pushed, and pulled, and used. I am here to do my job. I am here to maintain my living quarters. I am here to be of service.

We come up to a red light, and the tailgater whips into the lane next to me. Something he could have easily done earlier without riding my bumper, I think as a bit of irritation rises in me.

I look over at him. He’s old enough to be my father, and seems incredibly irritated by my presence on his highway. He has his eyes on his destination. He’s driven to arrive as quickly as possible.

He looks at me briefly before jerking his chin towards the road in front of us. As if to say, You should be too.

I turn my eyes back to the road. Equal parts irate and chastised. I should be focused on my destination. I should be focused on my job, more so than I already am. I should be asleep already so I can work again tomorrow.

My playlist is between songs. I forgot that I had turned the volume up so high, in order to hear it over the summer wind. Even though his windows are closed, I am sure he can hear the song that begins.

A wide, mischievous grin spreads across my face. I make no move to turn off the song or roll up my windows. And the defiance of this absurd moment, the way my silly, dissonant song cuts through the rumble of our engines, boils this man’s blood. His jaw clenches with rage, eyes pinned on the stoplight. The moment it turns green, he slams the gas and peels out of there faster than I think is reasonable. I guess he was just deeply moved by the Piss Champ.

And as his brake lights shrink into the night, I finally wake up.

I breathe in the sweet night air, taking it deep into my lungs, and releasing it in a wild, carefree laugh. The beautiful lights of the highway dazzle me, swinging like low flying stars through the inky black night. The wonder of the night fills me with hope.

Tomorrow, it will be April again. Tomorrow, I will set my eyes on my office, and do my job again. Tomorrow, I will sleep again.

But tonight, it is summertime. And I am finally awake.