Rain drops alternately peck and hammer at the windows and roof, drawing their squiggly patterns and pock-marks only to be swept away by the windshield-wipers.
Kelsey in front of me: fashionable pink sunglasses on her blonde head, pretty little face pressed up against the window, stuffed cow tight in her arms, somehow sixteen tomorrow.
Daddy at the wheel: I can see his alert, albeit headache-worn eyes in the rearview mirror, focused on the road stretching and winding before and beneath us.
Mom at his side: navigating, company-keeping, singing to her 90s music on the stereo and looking most put-together of any of us.
Jessica, front-left: currently undistracted by rain, scenery, music; pale yellow wisps of hair curling around her face from the humidity in spite of ponytail and headband, lovely face buried unsurprisingly in a book.
Green-covered mountains rise and fall behind and before us, reaching and dipping on right and left, and mist rises to follow the cars on the curving road, or to obscure patches of mountain trees.
A quiet settles comfortably among us, relaxed to the rhythmic humming of the wheels below. Many miles past and many yet to go, and there is peace in and among and between us, and there is joy.
And it is beautiful to me.
