more than I wanted to

by amy sharp



In 1984 my dad would drive me around in his El Camino and we'd listed to Genesis and we'd both just jam. He had young hands then and they beat in time with the drums and a bunch of trees blurred past me as I pressed my forehead against the window. 
He never talked much but the car radiated warmth and I was extremely safe. 
I remember everything about the origins of my inside world. 
I know when I started watching how people looked sad. 
I know when I hit record on the thing.
Keep pushing play.