Guest Post: Celia Edition!

While my mom might've been bemoaning the delay on her travels, it worked out quite nicely for me. This week we both shifted our schedules around and prioritized sharing the drive. Like any good daughter I procured the necessary provisions (read: latte and bagels), stockpiled the car with trader joes goodies, and set off to the bus station in my trusty albeit noisey Subaru.

In true Cummiskey/Carpenter fashion we of course made all of the stops. Including not one, not two, but THREE thrift store excursions. (I found a pair of vintage 80s Calvin Klein jeans. Score!) My mom got sheets for the bed (boring).

All the stopping however, might've taken some of the momentum out of the drive, and it seemed like someone was just tugging Roque Bluffs further away on a string, so that no matter how much nothingness we drove through we weren't getting any closer to dinner or bed.

However, the last ten miles or so of the drive the sun set and turned the sky around us pale shades of yellow, pink and blue. I love winter sunsets, the quality of light is so sharp and cold, and the sunlight is so fleeting that it feels extra precious. Theres no blurring like in hot summer sunsets, instead everything is framed out and austere. And the blue the cast the road takes on is like a water color wash over your windshield. Listening to Gillian Welch, and watching the wind beaten barns, white clapboard houses, and pine trees drooping under the weight of sticky white snow. I felt like kicking myself for being so grouchy about the drive.

I texted Ian saying that I felt like a movie version version of myself in the car with the blue tint and the folk music, to which he responded. "I try to live as similarly to movie Ian as possible and it is often quite rewarding." Which is good advice. It's worth it to give those moments their importance even if, like sunsets, they happen everyday. Regularity does not necessitate mundanity, and often we forget to look up at the cinematography happening all around us. Those are my two cents and I'm sticking to them.