Driving towards a
dark horizen yesterday, 
had me reminiscing 
about another storm
from several years before. 

It caught us on the side of a moutain—
wind lashing the rain so hard
against the car that I could barely
hear my father’s precise instructions
over the stridency.

And while I, 
white knuckled on ten and two,
swept my panicked eyes across the road
searching for a safe place to stop not
already occupied by wide-eyed motorists

my father remained as 
grounded and
as the moutain 
below us. 

His presence steadied me.
My grip loosened.
My heart slowed;
no longer matching the
frenzied pulse of the storm.

Now, as I drive towards
this dark horizon,
I smile. I am as grounded
and unyielding 
as the moutain from my childhood.