Where you are

Natalie Maines was pouring out of my car speakers this morning and there you were. There we were. I looked right and saw you there, window down, hand thrown open, hair flying in furious tornados of itself, the air hot and sticky, even in the dark. Is it now or is it then? Is there a difference? You don't ask where we're going. I don't know anyway. Just in the opposite direction of that house; that town. We don't talk. We don't explain. We don't question. We don't alter. We sing. And we are. It's enough. 

Sometimes the hot tears in my eyes still startle me. They're encroaching on a memory that wasn't theirs before. I wonder when and where that exact moment exists - when our happy, carefree, movie reel memories become the things that break our hearts.