Emily Yang (11) | STAFF REPORTER
This morning, I fully prepared to be absorbed in my book for the whole ride. Though it was a reread, it was one of my all time favorites.
I got comfortable in my seat, put my earbuds in, and got down to it. Page one, chapter one. The familiar feeling of opening the first bit of a book came over me. It was the beginning of a great story, centuries-old, known by millions. The crinkling sounds from the spine each time I flipped a new page warmed my heart.
Three hours flew by fast. It was way past noon by now, entering golden hour. From immense neck and back pain, I raised my head from the pages. I moved my head from side to side, in an effort to relieve some of the tension in my neck. This was the unfortunate consequence from being hunched over a book for hours on end. My mother and brother were both asleep in the car, leaving only my father, who was driving, and I awake. Closing my eyes, I leaned back on the leather seat and rested my head on the headrest. I stayed in that position for a while, trying to gain some comfort.
A ray of golden light shot onto my face, which I sensed through my closed eyelids. Recovering from my rest, I opened my eyes to see that we were driving through a length of farms and fields on either side of the road. Leaning forward, I took it all in.
Endless green grass was stained by the gold hues of the sky. Above the sun, the gold faded into pink and purple. Clouds were backlit, casting shadows on their full bodies. The warm summer air fed wildflowers, letting them grow strong and healthy. A little white picket fence separated the road from the grassland, with chipped paint and uneven boards. It was evident that a farmer had built it by hand. Inside the pen, cows strolled about dazily. They nuzzled the grass and moved their legs in a heavy slow-motion.
Turning away from the window, I observed the interior of the car. I sat on the left side of the backseat. My mother had awoken from her nap by now and was looking at something on her phone. My brother remained fast asleep, his chest inflating and deflating in an automatic rhythm. My father had both hands locked firmly on the wheel. I knew the focused expression of his eyes on the road even when he was wearing sunglasses, as he was now. Though we were in such a tightly confined space, we could not be further apart. Each in our own worlds, consumed by our own thoughts and feelings. With one last glance at the peaceful sight of the sunset, I lowered my gaze back to my book.
