There is a strange feeling that creeps up on me every so often.
That of driving down a lonely blank road when life suddenly seems

perfect.

weird huh? I don't really know why this sensation arises but I've come to figure out the conditions that will conjure it.

Traveling on the Mass Pike for eternity into New York: it was me, the Saab, a sleeping and snoring father, softly playing music, and the darkness. I glanced to me left and was shocked but delighted to see one million stars sparkling above a tall, tree-covered hill. That surprise made everything feel ok.

Then, while driving in my best friend this year, the I-try-to-kill-you-in-the-snow Hyundai, through young flurries as a matter of fact, I was thinking about everything, as usual. It had been a few minutes since I passed the bridge. Humming to myself the familiar track #6, my troubles then evaporated. And everything was ok.

I'm happy.
And everything is ok. now to brave Boston in the snow.