Frosted

 

Front Seat Passenger

My daughter recently transitioned to being a front seat passenger

when it is just her and I

driving,

engaged in parallel conversations,

snacking on Swedish fish, 

listening to podcasts or her poppy “pool party playlist” 

(that I secretly enjoy on my Sunday run).

When she was small and still

in the back seat, 

my mom rigged mirrors 

from all angles off the headrest

so we could see her eyes, mouth, nose 

in the rear view mirror.

When she was small we monitored

breathing, hunger, slumber

Now I angle metaphorical  mirrors toward my front seat passenger, 

attempts to monitor brain chemistry, soul, and faith.

She and I drive through Wisconsin 

moments before the sun sets at 6:00 pm

hours before the leaves finally fall

days before an election.

Years ago when 

she was a back seat bunny

gazing backward out the window 

she pondered the loss of Tempest Shadow’s horn and

requested alternative choruses of  “Wheels on the Bus”

….. Transmission uses his gears 

………Alternator changes the energy

Now she gazes out the windshield with me

and ponders other things 

I try to share all

the things I wish I would have known 

at her age

to make life easier 

to make it more beautiful

but doesn’t every mother make this attempt 

all the while the daughter cringes?

At some point we just need to start singing again. 

As I learned when I was twenty-one years old,

No one is a better DJ

than a front seat passenger.