The Drive Home

I am the only car on the road. I am finally able to go home. In the past 36 hours, I have sat in a sheltered bunker watching a dot move closer to earth. In eight hours, the dot will hit the Pacific Ocean. The world is going to change. Hell, the world is going to end.

The lockdown and shelter-in-place orders started yesterday. I am alone on the road. Driving with windows down, I needed fresh air. I stopped at a red light, I don't know why. Habit, I guess. But that is when I heard it. The silence. The lack of ambit noise. The trains are stopped. All airlines are grounded. I am the only car waiting for the light to change. I am the last person allowed to leave the bunker. The last person with family waiting at home.

When the light turned green, I drove on. Again, more out of habit. Now that I could hear the silence, it became defining. The next light turned red. I only slowed enough to ensure there was no oncoming traffic. I am the last person out. Everyone is sheltered inside as ordered. All the businesses are closed, no open gas stations or fast food joints, no life. Everyone is sheltered as best they can. This is a lonely drive.

I arrived at a small home with only two bedrooms. I parked and killed the engine. No more noise. The silence is almost unbearable. Then the door opened. My Darlin ran to me. Her embrace almost takes us to the ground. That's when I knew I could die with a smile.