Memories

It is a dark and chilly night, but the inside of our big old 1953 DeSoto is warm and cozy.

I am sitting in the back seat, right behind my Daddy, who is driving. Next to me are my younger brother and sister, leaning against each other and sound asleep. My baby brother is slumped in his car seat between Mommy and Daddy. His head rests on the car seat steering wheel and I wonder if he will hit the horn and wake himself up.

The radio is playing soft jazz and I am wrapped in a haze of Chesterfield smoke. Most of it goes out the vent of Daddy's window, but some of it floats over all of us like incense. Sometimes he throws the butt out the vent and I watch the flash of fire that sweeps down the side of our car, past my window and onto the shoulder of the road. There is something almost magical about it.

I love this feeling of being all together, snug and warm, super secure and safe.