We're on our way to L.A. You're driving at 70 mph, humming to Red Hot Chili Peppers' Californication; apt considering where we are. I'm sitting here, on the wrong side, trying to spot the last seven number plates; almost impossible considering how fast they go. I'm sitting here, on the right side, remembering it all.
Us, running at the airport in Dublin, moments from missing our connecting flight. The woman on the first flight reassuring everyone that He is on our side, oblivious to the fact that He is probably not heading to San Francisco. Lindy hopping at Golden Gate Park. The vintage arcade at Fisherman's Wharf. The orange bridge against the blue backdrop. The sealions on Pier 39.
Swimming in our underwear in the Merced River with country music in the background. Woodpeckers. El Capitan, which that guy climbed free solo, and the towering view from Mirror Lake. You, hopefully calling for bears. And hummingbirds.
The breathtaking sunset at Moro Rock. A little boy's dreams coming true in front of the largest tree on Earth. Blackjack and Texas hold 'em on the bed in our little cabin in case it is of use later (it wasn't). Life on Mars and a half-cooked egg on the bonnet of our car.
Gambling all of $5 in Sin City. Off-track at Zion. Feeding you fruit whilst driving. The curves of Antelope Canyon. The bend of Horseshoe. Yet another stunning sunset at Yaki Point. The quirkiness of Route 66. The vibrant Santa Monica Pier and the flashingly spontaneous moment above the city of dreams.
We drove over 2000 miles and I sit here longing for more; more miles, more days like these with you. I sit here, on the right side, remembering it all.
But what I remember most is us lying on that bench in the soothing darkness of the desert. Under the Milky Way and a sky studded with more stars than we've ever seen. I remember the gentle, warm breeze and then the stillness of you asking me for more; more miles, more nights like these, forever.
"Yes, yes, of course I will."
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