2 a.m. and I’m doing 90. Roads are clear, ain’t no one around. Country road and I’m wanting to get where I’m going. Dark crisp morning in a September. Got the call and I was on the road. Waiting, waiting for me. That’s all I could think about. Then out of nowhere, I see the flash of red and blue. Of course there was a cop on that road. Of course. And why wouldn’t there be; I was the only one on it.

The guy walks up and asks me why I’m speeding. I’m like….Uh, just getting where I’m going. Then I sit and listen as he tells me how he wants me to get where I’m going too; in one piece. I realize I’m in it, so I’m just all in agreement. Meanwhile, the clock is ticking and I’m edging to get back to closing the distance. He takes a walk back, writes his ticket and hands it to me, then waits for me to leave. I pull out slow. Model citizen driver now. Can’t afford to poke the bear twice.

Driving the speed limit is like watching paint dry, when you’re in a hurry to get somewhere. I’m watching the rearview and the moment he turns to leave back to his catch point, my pedal goes down and I’m gone. Burning around the lake now. ETA in five. Cold nights, glasses of wine, filled with laughter. Those were good times. Of all the things I still remember, Septembers never look the same. Years go by and time just seems to fly. But the memories remain. We both knew it would end; but we didn’t know when or how.

Went to court on that ticket. Pleaded guilty. No contest. Didn’t mind paying that ticket either. Wouldn’t have done it any different.

These are the moments, the brief seemingly insignificant moments in time, here today, gone in a blink, that your mind will wander to in time. You can’t get them back. They’re simply gone. Written and forgotten on some page lost in time. Stories never told, held by two, that are lost forever. So ya…this one needed told. Remembered. Recorded on some random blog post in a sea of blog posts. So that maybe, in time, someday, it could be read and fill the reader with the warmth of a fond memory that happened long ago. Then perhaps, the memory of those nights will live on in those who’ve read about them.

And in that, I find comfort; as a story that will never end.

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