Where Do They Go?

I used to live near the interstate.

I would frequently wander out in the middle of the night, to the sidewalk overpass that crosses the interstate, sometimes with friends, but usually by myself.

I would reach the center of the overpass, sit down, and watch the cars and trucks driving east and west while I smoked too much and pondered.

I rarely made this trek during the hot months. I have always preferred colder weather. I have always found the stillness of a cold Winter's night comforting. It helps me think.

On many cold nights, I would sit on the overpass and watch the cars, wondering where they were going. Business trips, vacations... maybe they're just going home.

I moved away from the interstate nearly two years ago. I live outside of town, surrounded by wildlife.

At night, the coyotes yip and howl all around me. And I sit in my backyard, staring at the multitude of stars that I could never see under the orange glow of the city.

I sit, I listen, and I smoke too much. But I rarely see any cars.

Two years ago, I got on the interstate, and I found a new home.

And I no longer wonder where all the cars go.