Zach recommends “Freedom” by Kait Kerrigan and Bree Lowdermilk
High school was hard, especially for a fat and crippled guy. But senior year and the summer after were something special. It was the year I discovered the stage, the art of slipping my skin and becoming an honest liar.
For the first time in my life, I had somewhere to go other than home, school, and church. There were friends, shows to attend, and parties to go to. And on more than one occasion, the beach.
I don't remember much about that summer night. I don't remember what we talked about that night, who swam, who got buried in the sand. But I do remember the late night, four of us piled into the back seat of B's car. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't buckle my seat belt. I remember being painfully acute of how much space I was taking.
I also remember B's driving; she drove like a lunatic. Maybe it was a full moon, it was late enough. The streets of Huntington Beach were empty. As we made the perilously fast turn onto the 405, I remember the words blasting over the speakers, from a song I'd never heard before:
"Tear up the atlas. Don't read the road signs.
Driving for the sake of driving anywhere,
that's freedom."
And it was freedom, for just that moment. It was a perfect moment, burned into my mind all this time later. All the sadness that came to pass with those friendships hurts a little less. It was a perfect moment.
I kept repeating the lyric to myself, over and over again, so I wouldn't forget. The second I got home, I googled it.
And, even now, every long journey, when I first get behind the wheel, I roll down the windows, crank up the volume, and queue 'Freedom'. Those opening lines get me every time.
"Let’s go.
The highway’s calling.
The sun is shining.
Let’s get in the car and just remember.
Let’s go."
Zach J. Payne (he/they) is a poet, novelist, and recovering Gleek from Southern California. You can find him on Twitter/IG @zachjpayne or at estelrandir.substack.com
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