In the Mountains

I was in the car, watching out the window as we drove down the mountain. It was spring and the green fields and hills were lit up with the golden sun.

The road curved with the hills and after every turn a new view of the scenery appeared. The wind blew in the open windows and cooled off the hot car. It didn’t feel like we were going very fast, but the hills and valleys sped by.

As we came down a hill I saw a young boy riding a donkey, sitting on top of some blankets and baskets and holding on to the ropes.

Then suddenly, we rounded the corner and he was gone. And I wished that I wasn’t in the speeding car on the highway. I wished that I could have been riding at the slow pace of a donkey, enjoying the cool evening air as the sun descended toward the hills. I wished I wasn’t going quite so fast.