Creative Writing On Bridges

Headlights. Such a normal thing. I see them everyday. On my way to school, and coming home. But I think I see them most in my dreams. They spin around me, a dizzying whirl or lights. Somehow, I always wake up crying. It's been six years since my father left, and six years since I saw the headlights of his car, driving away. I remember the night he left. The screaming downstairs, the grinding of the garage door, the slam of a car door. Then, all I could hear was tears. And all I could see was tears as I pressed my wet face to the cloudy window, hoping to see him one last time. All I saw was headlights. I didn't know I would see him again. I am so lucky that I see him every week, when some may never see their parents. It's six years later, and I never stopped dreaming of headlights. …show more content…
I don't think he knows this is a symbol to me, but for some reason the headlights are always beaming up the driveway, past my window. I like to say goodbye to my dad, run upstairs, and look out the window, staring at the headlights calmly shining at me from the end of the driveway. I never cry. Not anymore at least. Every night I stare at those headlights and smile. I smile because I remember that night, when I was so young. I smile because my father came back, after I thought he had left forever. I smile because I know that the next night, and the night after that, and even the night after that those headlights will be there. I can count on it, just like I can count on my father loving me, forever. No matter what happens he will love me. My father tells me every day he loves me, more than anything in this world. I love him too, and I always