In the desert, you don’t remember your name

I was ten years old and sitting in the family car as it drove across the flat expanse of desert in far north west Australia. It was night time and my father was behind the wheel. We were listening to the ABC broadcast of the Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy on the radio.

I leaned my forehead against the window and stared out at the land that spread flat, without landmark, as far as the horizon.

There was a lightning storm in the distance. Above our car, there were bright stars, but far off, enormous chains of lightning flashed across the sky, sending blue pulses of light bursting across the desert. The chains connected across kilometres of sky, with separate chains overlapping and combining.

As I watched the lightning, I tried to understand what was going on in the radio play, but my young mind couldn’t comprehend the story. But, I could picture the author, alone, under the same stars I was under, and dreaming about the galaxy that lay beyond.

I can’t remember exactly where we were going, where we came from, or why we were driving at night, but I remember this scene vividly.

This post was in response to the Daily Prompt, which was desert.


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