Take My Keys

"I've been thinking of writing again."

"You should. You haven't written anything for a while."

"I haven't done much of anything for a while."

"You have been thinking."

"That is never good for me."

"Something will happen to make you want to write again."

"I used to say that about dancing and I have not danced in twenty years."

"I would love to see you dance."


After being fully caffeinated this morning I delayed heading back to the house with a stop by a field.  I got out of the car, grabbed my camera and lay down in the grass to get the right shot.  Passing cars were not very pleased with me.  They did not see what I saw.  They did not see the way the sun was peeking through the clouds and illuminating the field.

What is it with me and fields?  I have been caught in them.  Walked through them to get to some cows, stopped in the middle of them to look at the woman I love patiently waiting for me. 

One thing about me few people know is,  I like to drive.  Since I first got my license I preferred to be the driver.  I drove myself to the hospital while in labor for all my deliveries.  Through two husbands I drove. 

Now  I am no longer the main driver.  I gladly hand over my keys to her, and become the passenger. I don't think she is even aware of the significance of this action. Does she know it is not out of laziness but rather a huge act of trust? It is so much more than the literal being her passenger. With being the passenger I hand over the decisions that the driver makes, what we listen to, or don't, the temperature of the car, the route we take.

On this morning's commute I sat mostly silent, only responding to her occasional questioning of, "Are you mad at me?"

We all have our insecurities.  How could I tell her that, no I am not mad.  How could I say, "I am the opposite of mad, if there is such a thing. I am your passenger.  I am free from having to worry about the road.  You have taken that burden from me and now I can look at the fields, the cars, the sky.  How could I be mad when you have given me the safety of freedom? For the first time in my life I am relaxed in not driving.  I am thankful."

Instead I just said, "Of course not."

After dropping her off and again taking the keys out of necessity I adjusted the radio, the air, the mirror.  My focus narrowed to the road and what I was supposed to be doing.

Until I saw the field.

I lay in the field with my camera, keys in my pocket.

By giving her the keys, she has given me freedom.  The freedom to think, to write, to dance.

So this is what it feels like to be a passenger.  I have driven for too long. 

I finally know what it feels like to give up control and just trust she is there.

I will write.

Possibly I will dance.

For now, I will breathe.