Road trips are glamorous.
Up until you've been in a traveller van for six hours straight with a dead phone and everyone around you asleep, while the van ambles through the traffic in the tourist trap.
Not so fun would be an understatement.
Which is why we had no great expectations for the second leg of the trip.
Up until we hit the river.
You cannot, cannot gaze out at water that looks like it's hop-skip-and-jumping on the first day of vacation. Hear it gurgling and hissing over each rock like it found a new toy to play with and then swarming all around it.
Temptuous, the river changed moods as we glided smoothly on a man made road trespassing on mountains sculpted by something so much bigger than us.
The river, it- no, she- she flirted with me, teased and tempted with waters that glittered like diamonds on a queen's breast.
I opened the window and took a long breath.
It felt like my first.
(posting this because every time I re-read this, I'm there, at that exact moment when a The Jets song woke me up and I looked out of the window.)
Temptuous, the river changed moods as we glided smoothly on a man made road trespassing on mountains sculpted by something so much bigger than us.
The river, it- no, she- she flirted with me, teased and tempted with waters that glittered like diamonds on a queen's breast.
I opened the window and took a long breath.
It felt like my first.
(posting this because every time I re-read this, I'm there, at that exact moment when a The Jets song woke me up and I looked out of the window.)
