Burning Gas| July 8, 2016

I had an interesting encounter with myself the other day.

My father, with his workaholic spirit, finally decided it was a good time to take some vacation days. He proclaimed this statement throughout the house loudly. (Obviously I roll my eyes at him and don’t take him seriously because vacation to my dad still includes work.) Of course that announcement instantly meant it was time to go adventure around. 

Since we were babies, my father has always loved travelling and driving around endlessly. To my mom, this sort of exploration is “burning gas” and she avoids it by all means. However, me and my siblings have grown to look forward to these proclamations from my dad. These are some of my favorite moments. With the rush of the wheels hitting the bumpy  coal road intertwined with the excitement of scenes unseen, how could one not be content?

So I was just sitting in the back seat (my designated seat since the day I was born) just soaking everything in. Amidst the booming voices of my father and his father, I caught myself smiling.

“Smiling at what?” you ask.

Truth is, I myself do not even know.

I am unaware of what brought me such fulfillment.

All I am aware of is the power that one moment had on me.

And on we continued burning gas till the car smelled like old fries, ketchup packets, sweat, and serenity.


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