As we got onto Route 85,
entering the long stretch into North Carolina,
intense aching to be back home swelled in my chest: longing
to be back in the familiar, missing him,
even when I know it is wrong.
The highway was beautiful again, trees stretched on forever on both sides.
An old school bus tucked away
into the trees, almost like it was hiding.
Fading along the side of the road, no headlights.
Strange, to see a school bus there.
Just sitting amongst trees,
looking so outdated that it might as well have been growing into the backdrop,
trying to become a tree.