The Journey

I remember better the time I spent in anticipation
Like cleaning out the garage (where no cars were parked)
Arranging the seats, setting up the stereo, sweeping the dusty floor
I can hardly remember the time I spent there with friends
Or whether or not we had much fun
But I remember that feeling
Standing alone in the doorway, broom in hand
Like freshly washed linens that are much more comfortable
When the bed is being made than slept in
The long hours spent on the road that became more meaningful
More memorable than the time we spent in…where did we go?

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