by Cheryl Merrick
Chilled by the cool night air as we travel,
a lone car,
across the Nevada desert.
Surrounded by the comforting bulk
and lulled by the vibration
of our 1950 Pontiac,
we speed toward my grandparent’s home
in Pocatello, Idaho.
I awake, roused by the discomfort of sleeping
on hard, lumpy suitcases tucked in our foot space,
to see Dad driving and my mother and brother sleeping.
I raise my five year old eyes heavenward,
and embraced by quietness,
gaze in wonder into a sky filled
with sparkling stars.