Northeast

Sometimes, during a winter night, I will step out on the back porch and look around. I can see Highway 20 to the northeast. A low spot in the landscape allows me to observe vehicles traveling east and west for about 10 seconds before they are hidden by a rise on either side. The ones going west are only two bright headlights, like yellow saucers, while the eastbound show a long beam of white light stretching ahead of them into the darkness. I don’t walk out to the porch and watch the highway traffic a mile away because I am sad or happy. I do it just to observe. Watching motion in this world has always fascinated me. Waves rolling in and out, little birds flitting from tree to tree. Shadows starting long, getting short, then long again in the other direction during the course of a day. A steady summer rain splashing on a slow flowing river, geese flying right over your head while migrating, dogs playing with each other, a campfire burning nicely in front of you surrounded by friends. Back to the highway. There are some semitrailers outfitted with exterior lights that outline the whole truck, dozens of bright lights, making them look like they are ready for some mission in a superhero movie. I asked my son-in-law what was up with all the semi lights and he said none of them are required or necessary. They do it just to stand out in the night, to show off. But once you decorate your truck with them you better keep them all lit, because if any go out and you are caught by the state, you will be fined for faulty lights. Back to the porch. There go a couple more brightly lit semis, through my little viewpoint, off to the east and west. The wind is kicking up from the south, so I stand back against the house, looking again to the northeast and the highway. I feel the temperature dropping and turn to go inside. It is warm in there. Outside the wind blows and trucks keep passing by.