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Night Rides This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   I can barely remember waking up or crying endlessly, but I do remember being lifted from the cot. My mother always said it was wrong, and that I'd learn bad habits. They were always fighting about things like that. He would put my tiny coat on and tie the strings of my little hat tight around my chin. I remember the weird way my feet would feel when he put my shoes on. Then, after he would rub the sleep from his eyes, he would clasp my tiny digit and would venture into the night. The car was big - like a monster in the dark. It was red, a scary dragon against the night sky. The step into the car was by far the hardest part of the journey. It was so high it came up to my shoulder. He would gently lift me in to the car, and into my seat. It started loud and strong, then fade to a low rumble. As we pulled out of our street, I remember music tinkling softly, and the engine was the back up, keeping time. The street lights would pass and we would count them until the numbers became too big for a three-year-old mind to comprehend. We drove forever on those nights - me, Daddy and the moon. We would go past Nana's house, then over the bridge to look for boats. There never were any of course, but we looked anyway. c


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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