"Aldie Air"

After pre-road trip arguments and tears have subsided, we succumb peacefully to the stench of stale dinner rounds which emanates from the broken heater. As my mother dances wildly within her seatbelt, the rest of us, offended by this indecency, fold into overlapping layers across the bench-seat for our nap. After Daddy’s traditional "We Love You, Virginia" song as we cross the bridge into Virginia, we eventually start to creep up the NBC driveway. Radio silenced and windows rolled down, Mommy tells us to smell the "Aldie Air." How absolutely still and crisp it is, just as we left it.