road trip

My mom gave me her car. Which means I can sell my old car. Granted, it's a bit banged up and I don't expect to get more than $700 for it. But in the wee hours of this dewy morning, I have an epiphany.

I'm staring at the sidewalk, the dingy light of the street lamp tints the concrete the same color as a nicotine stain. "I'm going to drive north," I say out loud to myself. I look around because my voice doesn't seem to come from within me but more through me. Immediately my heart beats twice as fast and desire washes through my arms, down to my hands. There's that feeling, the one that fills me with a burning energy when I want to do something so badly. The passion that gives me the power to manifest, as if I just shot up some witch steroids. "As soon as I get seven hundred dollars together, my daughter and I are going on a road trip to Washington state." I'm smiling.