Always Singing

The song played for what would be the third time. Something about the lyrics spoke to her current thought process or maybe it was where she felt she was in this part of her life. Whatever it was, she kept playing it and singing along with it. 

Switching lanes to get around the eighteen wheeler that had suddenly slowed down in front of her, she paused in her singing. Wasn’t it John Mellencamp who had said something in one of his songs about living on the inbetweens of song lyrics? What song was it? She couldn’t remember. John Mellencamp. She had listened to his songs with her dad and her uncle as a kid. Maybe she could stop in his hometown at some point. She could go wherever she wanted. She felt a freedom that she had never known in her life before. Freedom and whatever it was about this song that spoke to her as she hit the button to play it for the fourth time. 

A Dodge Charger in the fast lane seemed to be keeping the pace she wanted. She decided to keep up with them. Looking down at her fuel gauge, she thought it would be a good idea to stop for gas and food when she finally crossed into Ohio. The good river. Ohio. What is Ohio’s slogan? She couldn’t think of it. Then again, who really goes on and on about their trip to Ohio?

When she had gotten in her car, around three hundred miles ago, she only knew she was ready to move on. Ready to start over. She started driving west and kept going. Not knowing what her destination would be. No hotel reserved. No friends or family she could visit. She could do whatever she wanted. Be whoever she wanted. She wanted to finally be herself.  Her kids were on their own and able to take care of themselves. There was no man whose standards would cause her to morph into a version of herself she would not be able to recognize. It was just her and all of her belongings stuffed into every possible area of cobalt blue Kia Forte and she was now, apparently, heading to Indiana.

Her phone rang interrupting the song. The screen displayed the name Michael. She pushed the button to decline the call. Do people actually enjoy talking about politics all day? Never mind. Of course, there are people who do. Like Michael. Politics was all he ever talked about.

What was the thing she talked about all the time that probably annoyed people? Music? Pop culture? Who cares? They could decline her call too if they didn’t want to hear it. It’s the reason the option exists. 

She shook her head trying to change her thoughts to something more positive. That’s also why she didn’t like talking to Michael. He brought out the negativity. She shook her head again. Focus. The song was no longer fitting her mood. She used the button on her steering wheel to move to the next one. 

It was two years ago when her mother passed away. Two years since her life was turned upside down. She had talked to her mom about how she wanted to get in her car and just drive until she found a new place. A new place that felt right for her. A new place to work toward new dreams and new goals. A new place to make friends. Real friends who would check in if she got quiet. Real friends who would understand her and love her despite all of her shortcomings. A new place. A new life. All of which would be exactly how she chose it to be and not because someone or some circumstance backed her into a corner and forced her to be there. It was time to live her life her way. Whatever time she may have left. She wanted to live.

Her mother had encouraged her to chase after her dreams big and small. Her mother knew the stress she had been under for so long. The day she lost her mother was the day she lost the only person who was completely and unquestionably always in her corner. She was left to face it all alone. That was the song “Lonely Ol’ Night”. She had a recording somewhere of her mom singing that song. 

“Welcome to Ohio” the sign read. “Find it here.” So, that was their slogan. Find it here? Find what? Not in Ohio. This was not it. This was not her new place.

She moved over into the slow lane so that she could begin looking for food and a gas station. What did she want to eat? Maybe just a cheeseburger. Something she could eat while she continued to drive. So…McDonald’s? That was fine. She’d eat something better later. 

She found an exit with a McDonald’s and exited the highway. After pumping her gas, she went through the drive thru at McDonald’s and ordered a cheeseburger, small fries, and a small Dr. Pepper. The employees barely acknowledged her as she went to each window. When did the world change so much? There used to be an emphasis on customer service everywhere. Now, it was hard to find good customer service. 

She chuckled realizing she sounded like her mother. Her mother, the woman who would strike up a conversation with strangers and end up making a brand new friend. Her mother was one of a kind. She wondered what her mother would think of her finally doing what she said she wanted to do. Was her mom watching over her as she drove along? Was she cheering her on? She wanted to believe that because it was what she needed. Her phone was quiet. No one was calling or texting to check on her progress. They were all too busy with their lives. They couldn’t be what she needed. She couldn’t expect them to be. Since her mother passed away, she had to be what she needed. Her own cheerleader. Her own support system. So, it was easier to believe that her mom was still there watching and cheering in the distance.

After placing the fries in the open cup holder and unwrapping the cheeseburger, she merged back onto the highway. An 80’s playlist was playing at a low volume. Indiana was just a couple of hours away.

Singing along with the music kept her from becoming lost in her thoughts. Kept her focus on the road. Moving forward. Just the slightest pause would have her mind wandering through random trivia knowledge or have her recalling times gone by or what was to come. So, she just sang along. When “Sunglasses at Night” by Corey Hart started, she turned up the volume and began to dance in her seat. 

To her right, she saw a sign that read “Seymour” before she knew she was there. It had a train at the front, music notes, a guitar, and a clock. There was more but she passed it before she could take it all in. She looked around at chain restaurants. Department stores. Corporate America at its finest. This couldn’t be the small town that John Mellencamp had sung about. Could it? 

A sign told her that there was a visitor center coming up on the right. She made the turn. She drove for a short distance taking in what looked a little more like a small town until she saw it. She stopped in the middle of the road staring at it. Noticing that there was a public parking lot next to it, she pulled in and parked. 

Her breath caught. She was crying. She was looking at a mural of John Mellencamp on the side of a building and she was crying. “I was born in a small town” was quoted on the mural. 

She wasn’t born in a small town. She was born in the city. She had lived in suburbia all of her life. Why was she crying? 

Memories of “Small Town” playing while her family was driving to the beach. The volume loud. Everyone was singing. Her dad. Her sister. Her mother. Vacations at the beach. Singing in the living room. Dancing around the house. Memories of her and her children singing along to different songs in a different time period.

Now, it was just her, alone, in a Kia Forte. It was just her and the music. She didn’t know where she was going. Just west. Just a new place. She didn’t know what she was going to do or how she was going to make a living. She wanted... No. She needed her life to be her own. Finally, completely, and unquestionably her own. The uncertainty had gotten the better of her. 

She sat in her car sobbing. No longer looking at the mural. Her head was buried in her arms which rested on the steering wheel. A knock at her driver’s side window startled her. There was an older gentleman with white hair looking at her with concern.

She rolled down her window slightly. “Yes?”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” The gentleman said. “I just noticed that you were crying. Then, I saw all your things in the car. So, I’m just wondering if you’re okay. Is there something I can do to help you in some way?”

She wiped tears from her eyes and used her sleeve to wipe her nose. “Oh, uh, no, I guess I just needed to let that out.”

He nodded. “I understand. There’s a diner not too far from here. If you’d like, we could grab a bite to eat and I’ll listen. If that’s what you need, I mean. I don’t mind. I’ve got nothing but time.”

She smiled. “That’s really sweet but I…”

“Are you sure?” He interrupted, pointing to her license plate. “Looks like you’ve been driving quite a distance. I’m sure you could use some rest. I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. Name’s Lee. What’s yours?”

She stared back at him briefly thinking she didn’t know this guy. Maybe it wasn’t safe to give him her real name. Almost immediately, she felt angry at herself. No. She didn’t want to be anyone else. Not ever again. Besides, there was a reason her mother chose her name. It was meant to be a reminder. Every time she said it, wrote it, or saw it.

“My name is Faith,” she told him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Faith. Will you join me for some supper?”

“Yes, thank you. I will.” She turned off the engine. Lee stepped back as she got out of the car.

She shut the door and exhaled to calm herself. “Which way?”

Lee gestured forward. “This way. Follow me.” 

Taking in the mural and the small town of Seymour, Indiana once again, she smiled before walking up so that she was beside Lee, allowing him to lead her to whatever she would see next.