up for air

Saturday morning.  I slip into my other uniform.  A handful of peanuts, half a cup of yesterday's coffee, my hat and bag and I'm down the road -- rolling down a dark highway wrapped in a soft blanket of piano and the lullaby of tires vibrating over smooth asphalt.  The dark fades to deep charcoal and silhouettes appear in the fields.  Somewhere behind the clouds the sun climbs unseen over the horizon and by the time the sky has paled to a smoky lavender I am away.  My shoulders drop and I remember that I am breathing.