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The Wrong St Louis

“My mom understands that I am meant to do bigger things in music. I am either meant to do huge things or lead a simple life in a small town in Australia. I will never again enter the world of the 9 to 5.”

He spoke enthusiastically as he drove. He had a captive audience.

“I just don’t understand why people settle the way they do.” He continued.

We were driving on the freeway that bordered Chicago. We had two sleeping bags and 2 duffle bags on the folded back seats. We were unaware that we were driving towards the wrong St Louis.

I shifted in my seat because I wanted to look at him as we had this conversation that I had never verbalized. “Yes!” I almost yelled. “I completely understand. I think I am meant to do so much more. I am meant to do something with my writing! I am so restless most of the time, unless I am doing something like this. Then I feel at ease. I feel as though I am using my time well.”

After this there was silence as we allowed our greatness to seep into the glass windows and out into the city that looked like low stars in the night sky. He looked at me and smiled. The radio played one of the songs on his IPod.

“Have you been in love?” I asked wanting to keep the momentum of our conversation going. I had learned the timing of his moods. This was the time that we were both on. We were ready for anything. So we talked about love and then we talked about his love. And then we talked about how love is hard when you want to move and do great things.

And then we passed a state sign that read Indiana and it should have read Missouri. We left the freeway and parked in a closed McDonalds parking lot. We stole wifi to plan the next few days now that we were closer to St. Louis Michigan than St. Louis Missouri. There was a couple that fought in the same parking lot. The woman yelled about abuse. The man told her to stop. She walked away. He drove away. Kevin and I stayed where we were. We laughed at the absurdity of it all. We planned our next few days and drove to a rest area in Indiana. We laughed hard that night before he made his bed on the back folded seats and I made mine in the front passenger seat. We then brushed our teeth in the grungy rest stop bathrooms and went to bed.

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2 replies »

  1. “After this there was silence as we allowed our greatness to seep into the glass windows and out into the city that looked like low stars in the night sky.” This is awesome. I love it.

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