Final Lyric Essay

Sitka, Alaska

Driving quietly down the long, dark road.

Spruce trees lining the asphalt, shielding the night sky from view.

We are rolling steadily through the inky blackness.

There’s no use for AC when there’s clean, fresh air, crisp in my nose. It was cold outside anyway.

No one speaks as we roll deeper and deeper into the mountains.

Booming base breaks the still, silence of Alaska.

I could feel the music dancing in my ears and the frosty air pouring in through the windows, transforming the dewy night into a somber dream.

It had been six months since she’d last seen Sitka, the majority of those months spent on the road, accompanied by her best friend, Mason. We’d finally reached the end of our excursion, having gallivanted down the sloping summits of Maroon Peak, in Pitkin County, Colorado.

Mom had cautiously granted me the open road, and the open road, me, without her, for the first time since I was 16.

Cars weren’t of too much use in Sitka. I had my 1979 beach cruiser to get around, boats constantly sailing across the harbor.

Rounding swooping slants in the road and tumbling along shallow riverbeds, scarce puddles dappled reflections of the yellow moon in my eyes.

It didn’t feel quite real, but for so long it hadn’t really felt quite real. From the moment I stepped foot outside Sitka, from the moment he sailed away on a night so much like this one.

“Can I listen?” Mason mumbles through cold breath, voice tired, but untroubled.

I plug in another headphone jack and we watched as notes pranced along the dashboard, flickering in our ears as we made our way deeper into the mountains, closer and closer towards Sitka.