As I was driving home this morning, after dropping The May Queen off at kindergarten, I saw two feet sticking out of a car window. They were crossed comfortably above the side mirror. The car was an old boxy car, covered with stickers and a bit of rust. Immediately I was filled with memories of being young and riding with my feet out the window. Of the the cool rush of air over my feet, up my legs, into my face and through my hair. Of riding in the car with my high school friends, laughing and singing, with no where in particular to go. Long summer days and cars with names, which we hopped into through the windows, just for fun. Our lives stretched before us like the open road, the possibilities rushing past like the wind.
I drove on home, in my minivan, with the air conditioning on. But in my mind, my feet were hanging out the window.