I always include a picture.

On Being Drunk Enough to Drive You Home Now

The windows were rolled down and her head hung lifelessly out the passenger’s side. It was raining, but she didn’t notice. Her dark red hair lay pasted to the side of her face as the raindrops ran through it. Her neck didn’t look comfortable, but I could swear I’ve read somewhere that you can’t feel pain when you’ve ingested an entire handle of rum in a three hour time span. I don’t feel sorry for her, anyway; all I can think about is that if she throws up on my leather seats, I’ll roll the window up with her neck in it.

I don’t usually drive drunk, but you’ve got to try everything once, right? Okay, that was not funny. You don’t have to tell me twice that those last few drinks should’ve been water, or that I should’ve designated a driver. Who are we kidding? Nobody wants to stay sober on New Years. I just need to stay focused on keeping myself awake. The soft breeze and rain drops hit the left side of my face and I grip the steering wheel with both hands, driving slowly on the slippery concrete; black, and full of muddy slush.

She peers up slightly from the window “es rainin’ allo’er my face.” she says, slurring.
I’m convinced that we’ll crash if I take my eyes off of the road, so I don’t look at her.
“Good, maybe It’ll rinse the drunk off and you can drive us home.” I say, irritated.
I’m not mad at her, I’m just concentrated on getting us home safely.
I begin to make a list of New Years resolutions and say them aloud.
Think of a better Halloween costume.
Keep better track of my socks.
Learn to play the cello.
Stop leaving my laundry in the dryer.
Learn Japanese. No, German. No, Spanish.
Yeah, Spanish is practical. I could learn Spanish, easy.

I realize my road is coming up soon, and I nudge her. She is unresponsive, but I decide to leave her alone until we pull up into my driveway. I just know that one of my neighbor’s cats is going to run out in the middle of the road when I look away. I always joke about hitting those cats, but I don’t really want to. God, my road seems so long.

I pull her out of the car. My shirt is soaked from her leaning on me, but that’s the last thing I’m worried about. It is difficult to walk for her when I can barely walk for myself. I fumble with my key in the lock and finally open my door. We drag our feet along, shushing our footsteps on the green carpet as we walk to the bathroom. I help her undress and give her some clothes to change into. I insist on wiping off of the toilet seat before she lays her head on it. Just as I’m about to leave, she peers up sleepily.
“You know what my New Years resolution is?” She asks.
“No, I don’t.”
“To get a new hobby.”
I laugh.
“But not tonight.” She mumbles. “Tonight I’m going to fall asleep by your toilet.”
“Okay” I tell her.
“Happy New Years to you, too.”

Winter dies the same way every spring

I always like to pretend I like movies that don't have happy endings. Most of the time, I prove myself wrong. If there isn't at least a tiny ray of hope shining at me at the end, I am generally displeased. (There are some exceptions, I'm not too awful all the time) Basically, my girlish- heart is so predictable. I've begun to write again, not only for my class, but for myself. It feels nice. My headaches have returned, but I am keeping myself optimistic, (with excedrin migraine in my purse, and sunglasses handy) and have made it my never ending mission to make sure that the only air that enters my lungs is saturated with hope. I like being alive. I like eating egg salad subs from publix, I like buying construction paper in the craft store for clever ideas i'll never carry out, and I will never stop yelling small stories, bad jokes and sorrows, though my voice will ache to yell many more. I like being alive.

also, I just noticed that my last two posts have had pictures of people looking upwards. Weird, huh? I must say, though, I am partial to the one in this post, with backwards binoculars and a backpack. (The cutest nephew this side of the mississippi.)