HIGHWAY TO HOME

The horizon burned with the intensity you only feel on Big Days—capital B, capital D. Brazen sunlight gilded the tops of the tallest trees, but the houses lining my parents’ street were still in shades of predawn blue. I stood outside their house, on the pavement where I learned how to both ride a bike and drive a car, and smelled the dew and defiance of summer. Today was the day I was moving 1,600 miles to Virginia from Colorado, my first time moving away from family and my first time away from home. The swallows began their morning chorus from the now-lit roof of the house, and I stood by the car and cried.

Before that day in August 2018, the longest period