Last drive with Mom
On a completely unextraordinary evening one June, my mother accidentally drove me to Pennsylvania. This was around the time I entered my teens, when I realized how my mother was different, when I no longer wanted to talk to her about anything. She and I developed a new tradition then, in which we would get in her car and drive from D.C. out to rural Maryland, out to the countryside. From there we would let ourselves get completely lost. The only navigational rule was that we had to follow the sun, to drive in its direction as far as we could until it was completely below the horizon.