The road is icy and what little moonlight there is hides behind deep, dark clouds and ominous sky.  It’s midnight, and although the temperature is below freezing, the harsh, rushing north wind makes it seem colder by the minute.

The wipers swipe the windshield, back and forth, back and forth. Part rain, part snow, part sleet strikes the glass as if it were an all out assault.  The heater blows on high, and even with a coat, gloves and extra socks, nothing keeps up with the bone chilling cold outside.

Like an impending doom, the cold surrounds the body and car trying to overtake both driver and machine to remove all heat, and movement, from both.

Ever so slowly the car edges along roads as well known as the back of the hand, yet they’ve never been seen nor traveled.  Little patches of ice that can’t initially be distinguished as danger cause the tires to shift and treacherously spin before returning to the porous asphalt where the rubber regains grip.

The road is dark with moisture, so other than the obvious like bridges, black ice silently waits to strike its victim like a deadly cobra coiled in a corner.  On and on the car creeps as the driver searches wide eyed for a familiar place to park.

Excitement surges! Lights in the distance! But the lights prove nothing more than another car foolishly poking along to get to who knows where.

The tires roll on through the slush to the beat of the wipers playing their metronome rhythm.  The driver’s thoughts fall in sink with the wipers. Each down stroke brings new hope, but the up swing snatches it away and casts it to the side.

No lights anywhere, just darkness, yet somewhere out there, a front porch light glows welcome.  Inside, it’s warm and cozy. The fireplace gently pops while coals radiate warmth and life within.

A lit vanilla candle radiates a welcoming scent, while the aroma of a hot coffee steams gentle on the senses, just like the kindness and goodness of those inside are gentle on the soul.

But for now, there is nothing but cold and dark, nothing but road ahead.  The tank is full, even when it feels empty, and the driver continues driving the long narrow road seeing, but not looking, looking, but not seeing, waiting for the flicker of the porch light in the dark.

A quick zip of the coat helps bundle up more just as the tires make another quick movement on black ice causing it to swerve slightly. Just as quickly, the steady, solid pavement returns as the car moves slowly onward toward a light burning somewhere, somewhere waiting down the road.