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Moonlit Dance

(Moon by Sleeping at Last)

It was just a simple drive home from Provo, Utah. Or, well, it should have been.

My boyfriend, Kord, and I had taken separate cars to go to Blaster Tag with some of his friends. He was already down in Provo when I was just getting off work. It was a fun night. We shot each other with nerf darts and then went for sodas.

But the drive home was something else. His journey started in Provo and ended in South Salt Lake. Mine ended in South Jordan, just about 20 minutes south of Kord’s home. At first, we raced a little bit and weaved out of traffic. I kept close to him, though. Something just told me to. I was driving in a 2016 Mazda 3 I hated and Kord was in his 2011 Mazda RX-8.

Something, I’m not sure what, had told me to slow everything down. So, I reached down, turned on “Moon” by Sleeping At Last, and just let it play. I knew my exit was coming soon, so I figured it’d be a nice freeway to city street exit song.

Up until that point, I was still having a hard time. I was still getting over losing grandpa, I had just lost Murdock, my dearly beloved car, as a total loss in a wreck, and our insurance was passively working against us. Kord and I had gotten into an argument, and it just didn’t seem like the punches were slowing. I had an epiphany. It felt, the entire way home, that we were using our cars to dance along the freeway, weaving between cars and staying close to each other. It made me feel a bit lighter, even if it was only myself thinking of this scenario.

But, the astonishing realization I had came soon after. The music swelled slowly and, as I merged to my exit, I took one bittersweet look at his car. I didn’t really want to part ways just yet, but I had to go home. Then, time slowed. The way the freeway and city lights rolled along the sleek and stylish curves of his car seemed like water flowing down a river. The spinning of his rims and tires seemed like a fan on a middle setting, not too slow, but not too fast. The angle my car and the off ramp put me at would have been an emmy award winning camera shot. The seemingly beige (although grey in the daytime) barrier against the silver of his car. The red tail lights from surrounding cars disappearing into his red tail lights.

And in that same moment, he was gone. The barrier finally concealed him and stopped our dance in one fell swoop. But my radio didn’t stop there. As I turned my gaze back to the road and slowed down to come up to the red light, the music was back to its calm nature. I felt like I had been floating peacefully through space as I glided across the calm, nurturing starlight and noise. Not even an hour prior, I felt a cluster of negative energy in my core, bogging down my mind and tampering greatly with my mood.


Even if Kord and I do fight and things aren’t going well, we still love each other. We balance each other out when need be, but still retain our individuality. He is the eye in the center of my hurricane. The calm peace hidden within a turbulent exterior. And, as long as we’re together, he always will be.

In that moment, as “Moon” swelled and subsided like the waves it pulls, I was reminded that things happen for a reason, even if reason be unknown. Who or whatever made me change the song in the exact moment I did finally helped to bring some peace to the turbulence of the storm. I saw a cinematic masterpiece evolve right before my very eyes. And, while I was involved, it felt as if I were sitting comfortably on my couch watching a movie. But I wasn’t. Life is full of movie moments that just engulf us in a feeling of, well, whatever happens in the moment.

And for me? I wasn’t paying attention to the road for, probably, a solid five seconds. I was so enamored by my surroundings, yet I didn’t even come close to another crash. I was reeling on the adrenaline of the dance we shared on the way home, but nothing bad came from it. I made it home safely, waited until he confirmed he made it, then fell asleep.

But as I drove away from the freeway after living in my own movie magic, the song-consistent thought popped straight into my head.

It’s gonna be okay.

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