I needed to pee, badly!
Four hours; that was the estimated time of journey. I all but cared how long we’d be on the highway; all I could think of was how elated I was. We had begun this trip a mere five minutes ago and I was already more than excited.
Basically, the bathroom became my friend every time I felt too much of anything at all. It was a burden, but it did nothing to ruin how happy I was to be on the road again.
Hell, nothing could ruin this, not even the fact that we were on a road trip to my aunt’s place; the very aunt I did not like one bit. The woman saw it as her point of duty to always comment negatively about how I looked too much like my mother, so much so that it was as if I wasn’t even my dad’s child. It pissed me off, to say the least.
But, as I said, not even that could ruin how happy I felt. Believe me.
I took a happy picture of myself and my family. My mom was driving while I rode shotgun and my siblings bickered in the back. Yes, they knew that was grossly childish relative to their age, but I’m sure that was the least of their concerns.
Since my dad had passed, it had been more of road trips for us. While my mother wasn’t exactly a fan of travel, she was an even smaller fan of flights for obvious reasons. As that implies, yes, he died in a plane crash.
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Onto seemingly less depressing topics, I appreciated the scenery that I got to observe when we went on road trips like this. Yes, most of the time, that “scenery” was just trees, mountains that were too far to actually appreciate, and the occasional weird local people who just stared at passing vehicles.
I always made it a thing to document whatever stood out on these trips. These things were not exclusively tangible.
The truth was, until my dad died, I, along with the rest of my family, hated road trips together. But right in that moment, it was all we had to remember my dad by. There was just this inexplicable feeling we got when we got in the car all together and drove somewhere without him. We loved to talk about my dad.
This was his car. It still had his scent. I remembered that we had four hours on the road, which means I could bask in my hero’s scent for four whole hours.
He loved road trips, and he only went on them with one of us at a time. I could forever reminisce about our memories in this very car, with me in the same spot I sat when I went on trips with him.
We all took turns sitting shotgun. I would sit first, then my siblings and finally my mother. I would drive while she remembered her dead husband. When each of us sat in that seat upfront, we would all share our stories; remember what a man he was and be happy again.
That was what made me overly excited. That was the absolute thrill of our road trips.
About Deborah Aturu
Deborah Aturu (Paige), is a student of the University of Lagos, living in the city of Calabar. She loves to write content: be it stories, short write ups or whatever sort, that are interesting enough to draw and keep attention. Check out her blog for more of her work. Fun fact: She loves listening to music and watching Marvel movies.
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felt this. felt it deep ✨❤
Thank you for feeling it. ❤️
There are … wow. I didn’t expect the spin on this story. It began with a different direction, went deep, then brought back smile to our faces.
Deborah this was a beautiful illustration of your experiences and how they shaped your perception of seemingly mundane things. It’s simply beautiful. Thank you for sharing this story.
Thank you very much for reading and liking it.