I'm driving down this god-forsaken highway again.
I've got a letter on the dash, and a hundred miles left.
I'm more than halfway there, and I don't need a map - I've still got the directions that you wrote on the back of your yearbook photograph. Do you remember that? It still makes me laugh.
I wonder if you'll be at home.
I should have called to let you know...
I wonder if you've planted all of those flowers and bulbs that you said you were going to plant before the winter.
I wonder if you still look the same, or if years of missing me have left their mark upon your face.
But I won't love you any less if your long hair is grey from stress or if you can't squeeze into that dress - you know the one I mean.
And when I get there will you smile and greet me like an old friend, or act confused and just pretend that nothing ever happened?
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