What You Sound Like in My Head

As I drove down that long road to the campgrounds, your song came on the radio, and I was missing you so badly that I didn’t even try to sing along.  I sat in the driver’s seat, eyes focused on the pavement rushing beneath my car, and I closed myself off from the world for a few lengthy moments.  Just sitting.  Just staring.  Just thinking.  Just listening to your voice and your instruments swelling from the car speakers into my thirsty ears.  And I thought that this must be what it sounds like inside my head.  There must be your guitar echoing with every golden strum.  There must be the sound of your voice, the roughness and the sweetness of your words, swirling like spells somewhere in my memory.  Vaguely could I, in that moment, see your face, but I found it of no importance.  Nothing just then seemed as urgent as the sound you make in my mind.