lastbadger

"Wake up, we're here"

I remember, as a child, falling asleep in the back seat of the car on the drive between Lansing, and Charlotte. Moreover, I remember lying there half awake and hearing bits of my mother and stepfathers conversations. They would talked in hushed voices about the evenings events, about there hopes for there lives, and for mine. If I were lucky I'd become privy to some secret surprise planning. A special trip, birthday plans, maybe even the aquisition of a highly desired gift. Classic rock played softly on the radio as we made our way on old Lansing road. It was before 69 ran through Charlotte. I would wrestle against the lullabies of Bob Seger, Journey, and Fleetwood Mac to keep my consciousness. I just wanted to hear my parents talk to each other like lovers, and friends. Those night drive voices, they were not the same, and spoke words the mom and dad ones would not.
Even with my Eyes closed I could tell when we came close to Lansing. There were always more lights in city. More flashes of red on the inside of my eyelids. I hated the feel of the car lurching over the speedbumps as we made our way into the trailer park. As we would pass the leasing office in the first trailer my stepdad would turn off the radio. No more night moves.
When I was very young my stepfather would carry me in and put me in my bed. I could feign unconsciousness the entire time, and listen to my parents as people. Later I would become to big to carry. Then my mother would reach over into the back seat and shake my leg. Speaking in the voice of a mother, already having exercised her nocturnal tounge she'd gently say "Wake up, we're here.