Old

We’d been exploring one of my favorite parts of North Carolina, the Pamlico coast: Washington, Bath (the state's oldest town, with its oldest church), and, up the Pungo River, Belhaven, where we ate flounder for lunch and toured the museum. Now we were heading home, with me driving, Anthony riding up front, Kelly and Mike in back. At first we were all talking. Gradually, as lunch settled, Anthony and Mike fell asleep and the car went quiet. That was okay. It was a nice drive, a golden day, sun stretching out long across the cotton fields. I've always loved late November. I've always loved this landscape. Miles and miles of nothing.

When I checked the rearview, Kelly was wide awake, fidgeting like she does when she's just figured something out. "This is what old people do," she said. "They all get in the car and go riding around in the country and don’t talk."