Highway To Her Husband

Highway to Her Husband

She was in her early seventies and had never driven a day in her life. At first, every lesson took forever. Every turn, every stop, every signal was a struggle. But after about forty lessons, something shifted. She began driving beautifully, confidently, as if the car had finally become an extension of her.

At first, she said she came back just to keep busy. But soon, I learned why. Her husband was buried in Long Island. Visits had become harder as time went on. We began highway lessons. Five-hour sessions sometimes, driving to the cemetery with flowers, letting her stay as long as she needed before returning home.

She introduced me to him once. I felt like crying, but held it in. She passed eventually, but I still think of her sometimes. Behind the wheel, she wasn’t just driving. She was carrying love, memory, and devotion. And I was lucky enough to witness it.