The Summer I Learned to Breathe

twelve

☼ twelve ☼

When I can't sleep, I like to sneak out and drive around without a destination. There's nothing like the peace and silence of driving along an empty road at night or in the early morning. It's an easy drive, and my thoughts can easily wander.

I usually start on my favorite back roads that have frequent, steep enough hills that make you feel like you're on a rollercoaster if you drive a touch over the speed limit, but I always seem to end up driving the roads that run parallel to Lake Michigan.

Right now I'm exhausted, but it doesn't affect me; my brain is wide awake, and I sure won't be able to shut my eyes and drift off to any sort of peaceful place anytime soon. I'm still shaken up after the events of last night. In fact, I'm bothered so much that I don't really want to see my father, Marie, or even Gabe; I don't want to see anyone who will remind me of what happened.

I couldn't be happier that things are getting better with Sam. It's great to have another close friend, but it seems like it's costing me what was left my relationship with my father. Not that it's Sam's fault, but ever since we've been hanging out, my dad has been distancing himself from me. He's becoming unpredictable, and it's making me extremely uncomfortable. 

I roll the windows down because I love the wind tossing my curls about, and I love the rising sun gently casting through the windows and across my bare legs. I glance at Bella riding shotgun, and I smile as I watch the pure joy evident in her when she sticks her face out the window and pants into the breeze. I find myself enjoying the freedom and spontaneity of wandering through unfamiliar territory, and I'm glad to be alone with my thoughts.

I drive on a back road that I've never been on before, and I'm curious to see where it goes. I might end up finding a short cut somewhere, similar to Madison's driving mistake yesterday that showed us a new way to get to Springport.

I realize driving around spontaneously on a half tank of gas is similar to my life right now. I've been trying to build new friendships just to see where they may lead, and I'm preparing for my life to change drastically when I arrive at college for the fall. I'm driving down unfamiliar roads, hoping and praying that the experiences they provide me will help me to grow as a person in a positive way. I hope that I will encounter a moment in my life when I will completely let go of my frustration and pain over Austin's death because I believe that is the biggest road block in my life. 

Sometimes I wish there was a number I could dial on my phone that would direct me to Austin. I wish I could just pick up the phone and talk with him: hear his voice and ask if he's ok or if it hurt. Sadly, there's no way for me to talk with him. However, I believe I can sometimes feel his presence when I'm tired and alone, and that thought is enough to comfort me for a while. When I feel like he's fine and he's in a better place, I find myself getting closer and closer to accepting what happened and moving on.

I need the feeling of his presence today. I would love to consult with him right now to explain what's happening and how I feel. I wish I could get his advice. My thoughts are tangled and confused, and I'm not quite sure I can place my finger on an exact feeling to describe my state of mind; I don't know what to think of my father's outburst from last night. 

I've been aware for a while that he was heavily affected by Austin's passing, and he definitely wasn't coping well. However, he never displayed signs of a violent drunk or alcoholic. His actions last night took me completely by surprise, and they were extremely uncharacteristic of him.

I'm frustrated I lost my mother, then my bother, and now I'm afraid of losing my father because he's changed; he's no longer the soft-spoken, selfless father I had once grown to love. His caring attitude has dissipated and been replaced by a controlling, unpredictable mindset.