Trudging along the abandoned highway
In my father’s old, beat-up Toyota
As the soft hum of the radio
Caresses my weary ears.
I listen to Frank Sinatra croon
Fly Me to the Moon,
Remembering how Grandpa Herb
Used to sing me this same song
So many lifetimes ago,
Rocking me quietly in his wooden chair
Until I fell asleep in the safety of his lap.
Now the song seems to be mocking me,
Poisoning my very soul,
And I try my best to tune it out—
In the vacant seat beside me,
I notice TIME magazine flipped open
To an article whose bold headline reads,
“Beyond Death: The Science of the Afterlife.”
I stifle a sickening laugh.
How fucking appropriate.
Too bad I’m a skeptic
Who doesn’t believe in life after death.
To me, neither heaven nor hell exists,
And especially not God.
Because if that were the case,
I wouldn’t be stuck in this goddamned Toyota,
Heading off to my dead grandpa’s funeral,
While my father weeps silently from the front seat
And I pretend not to notice.
Lindsey Moses is a junior majoring in English at SUNY Oswego. In addition to serving as a tutor at the Writing Center on campus, she also edits for the student-run literary magazine, The Great Lake Review. In her spare time, Lindsey enjoys reading, writing, traveling, listening to music, and attending concerts. She hopes to one day achieve a successful career in the writing/publishing industry.