I Could Drive Forever

Sometimes everything just falls into place, you know? Like when you’re lying in bed beside your softly snoring boyfriend on a Sunday morning in early spring, scrolling through godknowswhat on your phone for godknowshowlong because the light in the room is gray and cold and you know that outside, it’s gray and cold, too. And then you text your friend, Hyrobics—Any chance you want company in New Mexico?—because your grad school program doesn’t start until June and she’s been texting you frantic questions about the Continental Divide Trail before she sets off on her thru-hike attempt next month:

Will I meet people? (Some, most likely.)

Do I need crampons? (Just microspikes, probably.)

How about maps? (YES.)

You set your phone down beside you in bed and before you roll over to kiss your boyfriend’s bare shoulder your phone beeps to life.

OMG.

Another beep.

YES. YES PLEASE.

And another.

THAT WOULD BE AMAZING!!!!!

And just like that, you’ve booked a flight to Phoenix, a Greyhound to Lordsburg, and a shuttle to the border in Crazy Cook, New Mexico. You kiss your boyfriend’s bare shoulder and he stirs, smiles in his sleep. Soft light pours through the half-closed blinds and everything is warm and golden.

i feel like a little girl on xmas, Hyrobics texts, even though she’s Jewish.

Same, you write back, even though you are, too.