The evening

sun

is deceptive. It feels like it might stay forever only to exit abruptly.

On our way to the airport I was squinting, trying not to be blinded. After seeing Ana off at the passenger drop-off, I drove home under violet swirls, the kind that makes you think God is a painter up there somewhere. Driving out in these 

American

countryside at this time reminded me of the mood in that one

Arctic Monkeys

song. During the day I might be reminded of country music, but as the sun dipped I felt less in some symbolic 

rural

world and more in mine.

I would be alone for two weeks. Being alone struck me hard. Everything would change. From the things I looked forward to and how long time felt. When Ana was home I would hardly listen to 

music

except as a decoration to time. Background noise. But as soon as Ana had left, I would immediately feel the music again. The sonic. The words. all of it would mean something else.

What did this mean about my everyday life vs my life when Ana was out on a business trip? I couldn't say. When I'm feeling confident I'd say it meant my life was good. But how good can one's life be if the exit of a single other person can disrupt it so much?

I thought of that a bit as the violet swirls turned into full on night. The voice of 

Jordan Peterson

passed through in my internal dialogue for some reason. I imagined him saying something like "No, that is precisely the tragedy of life. That to live a good life means that it can be taken from you at any moment. Leaving you in shambles." I wondered whether a 

life

completely devoid of having loved someone might not be preferable? You could never feel the same pain if you never loved someone, for you can never lose what you don't have.

Then Peterson's voice came back through. "But what is the damn alternative? To live your life without ever feeling the magic. The beauty that is love? Is that even called living?"

I put some 

podcast

on to chill my nerves. The quiet from the music having ended was making me think too much. I thought of one of my friends from college. I couldn't really call him my friend when imagining other people looking at us. We had hardly hung out. Still. He felt like a friend. I hadn't seen him in over a decade. But for some reason we had emailed each other the prior month. A few back and forths. He was telling me about a trip he was taking. Some exotic place with nice weather. He would either be there right now... or going there or just getting back. Something like that.

I turned the podcast off and drove the rest of the way listening to the engine.