and in that moment we were.

I put on Brian Eno and turn it up so loud that you can hear my iPod whispering with the car speakers. The air smells like gunpowder. The smoke from the fireworks is still drifting through the trees. I never quite remember how to get where I'm going, but I always make it home. The right hand turn signal adds a snare beat to the music. Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick. Smooth turns through the July air, the car cutting a wake on the road before the road that gets me home. I turn on the brights and they spray the trees arching above the road with light. One last smooth turn. I roll up the window to trap the music and the heat in the car, between my ears. And in that moment we were.