When I was younger, on Sunday afternoons, my mother and I would go for drives. We’d get into her Camry LE and we’d drive for hours, listening to Quiet Storm on the radio. Those were the best times. My mother worked often, sometimes two shifts back to back so these times were special. Sometimes she would tell me about what it was like growing in the Caribbean, other times she’d tell me about her hopes for the future, for herself and for me. Sometimes though, we would simply listen to the music and sing along. Those were my favorite times. Singing along with Luther or The Bells or Teddy…those hours were the best.

Now…now things are more complicated. My mother and I…let’s just say we’re worlds apart at the moment and I don’t see our planets aligning anytime soon. The way my future plans are shaping up…the divide just might grow. Change is difficult. It’s hard to go from looking forward every weekend to those long Sunday drives to barely being on speaking terms. Sticking to safe topics like the weather and politics. Each of us fearful of hitting a sore spot for the other.

I miss those Sunday drives. The intro of Smokey singing about short circuited nerves and quiet storms brewing in his mind. Gazing out the open car windows, dreaming about what my future life would look like. Some use Quiet Storm to set the mood for love, for me, the Quiet Storm was always a time to just relax and spend time with the person who was always supposed to be in my corner.

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