This time, two black puppies were tentatively testing the opposite side of highway, barely shying away from the traffic hurtling down the blacktop.
Last time, no cars were in sight.
This time, I hit my brakes.
Last time, I didn’t stop.
This time, a mid-life rotund man burst from the driver-side of the red SUV closest to the puppies and coaxed them off of the road.
Last time, I reluctantly drove past a mid-life rotund man beating a pit bull.
This time, the driver behind the red SUV smiled at me from across the asphalt.
Last time, a superhero behind her keyboard frowned at me through her fingers.
I’ve driven this stretch of the Great Basin Highway through every season. I’ve navigated these white lines in tears, in elation, in contemplation, in anticipation, in escape.
Remarkable, the changing skies.
Over the same road.