Going Home

The leather feels warm to the touch as my left hand grips the steering wheel. I can smell the fresh mountain air as it's ventilated into the cabin of my car through the air conditioning. Although the change in altitude is gradual, the familiar pressure in my ears begins to build with every mile. The glow from my GPS becomes more prominent as the sun makes it's final dive into the west. Two more hours. Two more hours of light swaying as the road pulls my car down its winding path. Another left, I feel my seat push against my right shoulder. Another right, now the left shoulder. With the mountain view slipping over the horizon with the sun, the weight of boredom begins to pull at my eye lids. My mind begins to drift as my eyes remain focused to car ahead. I see the windshield beginning to fog up. It begins to snow and the winding roads become more dangerous. The fear builds up as I pull over. As I open the car door, a rush of cold air immediately bites my skin. I take the chains out of the trunk. The weight of the chains, and the temperature of the freezing cold air is too much for me to handle. I can taste the snow as I kneel to the floor to put the chains on.