I drive in the rain; I get scared because I fear that I won’t see. I get scared because if the rain comes any faster, I won’t know what to do. But it’s slow; I am okay. It’s going to be fine.
I watch the purple, yellow horizon right across from me. What I see is nostalgic, a little blue. I was out with Jean minutes before. She is getting bigger with Starfish in her belly, but she is a beauty. She has big eyes; I can image Noah will have the same kind of eyes. I helped her unload her baby-shower gifts and bring them inside the house. She showed me all the little clothes, bath products, stuffed animals for little Noah. I don’t know how to describe the nostalgia I felt when I watched the horizon, the feeling of missing something.
Jean and Starfish are leaving for North Carolina; they will start their life there, live and sleep under one roof. They will love each other and their love will surmount a love of any other kind.
It’s a beautiful night. There are no stars, not even the moon. But it’s beautiful. You can smell the drenched air and feel it in your veins. Starfish is sleeping with his mother’s lullaby; his mother is sleeping and the words die down until only a gentle whisper remains. She whispers “I love you” to baby Noah who has huddled himself under her belly, sleeping with night’s lullaby.
I wasn’t scared in the end. The wheel took over and I let it take me. Then, I realized that I was alone. Starfish was gone and I could no longer see the road because the night was dark.