My Little Strip of Heaven

Just recently, I realized how much I love my driveway. Call me crazy, but I do. Lately I've looked at my driveway and thought about what it means to me, which, surprisingly, is a lot. It means more to me now and I'm probably the only person I know that is attached to my driveway, which makes me awesome. Or insane.

It all started when Courtney came over in her sweeto car. Of course, we car danced to the Ultimate Driving Mix in it. Now, when you think of car dancing, you probably think of people driving and dancing. We only did one of those things since it's illegal to drive with peers for the first 6 months of being licensed. Party in the driveway? I think yes. Weird looks from neighbors? Not much, they've gotten past that point after living near my psycho family for a few years. But you know what? It was honestly a blast, even if we were just chillin' in the driveway. That's when I realized that there have been countless parties in the driveway. Attempting to unicycle and laughing at each other while my middle-aged father showed us all up, innumerable go-kart tests, or just sitting and talking. My driveway's my bud.

I loved it even more when I realized how many journeys started and ended in my driveway. Before, when I would leave for long periods of time, I would sub-consciously say goodbye to my house, not looking forward to a bed not really mine. Now when I leave, I bid the driveway farewell and anticipate the next adventure on my list. The significance of pulling in or out of my driveway is more apparent to me, and it kind of symbolizes change to me. I know, I have way too much time on my hands to be able to be thinking about this stuff. I don't want to hear it. You just wish that you could look at your driveway and see it as an opportunity. An opportunity to leave where you are and take a break, coming back a different person, if only slightly. That strip of cement is point A and point B, the beginning and the end, the past and the future, the start and finish to an immense number of excursions.

There is something that makes my driveway extra special. Lines. Words cannot describe how much I love those gravel strips and how they guide me into the garage. They've totally helped me make curfew a few times already. I love being able to just swing in and know that I'm going to clear the sides because I'm in the lines! Be jealous. My driveway is stellar. Thank you Padre for knowing that you would eventually have 4 teenage drivers.

Sure, my driveway probably means more to me than it should for any sane person. So do grilled cheese sandwiches. Maybe you could join in the craziness. Next time you pull out of your driveway, think about who you are when you leave and who you're going to be when you come back. Try and make it a positive change, focus on making your driveway proud of the ever-so-slightly different you. Even if no one notices that you're changing for the better, you and your driveway will, and that's enough.