Tonight I hopped in my car and just drove. I wasn't going anywhere in particular, but I just drove. I left the town I live in a different way than I usually would, then decided to turn into the village up the road, where I lived from age ~2 to 11. I hadn't been in the village for years. It was strange - it was the same place, but it felt so different. Cars lined the sides of the roads, where years before the road had been empty. My primary school still looked how I remembered, but the trees up the steep driveway looked shorter than I remember. Maybe it's just because I'm taller now. I carried on, following the winding village road until I found myself outside one of my father's old houses. The people who live there now were just leaving as I passed. I thought back to what it was like living there - the jokes we told sat around in the living room, the games we'd play as a family. I remembered the time we were burgled the night we came back from a holiday, when two of my father's cars were stolen. We'd been in the house at the time, and the burglars broke in all the same, taking the keys from the kitchen. That was the house where I first properly fell for someone, too. I turned around at the end of the village road, retracing my route. I passed the school again, this time spotting the old footpath I used to take to get to school. I used to have nightmares about the woods on that path, but I still remember the holly bushes which lined the wire fence, and how steep the hill was. That was when I decided to drive up the hill I used to live near the top of. I hadn't been up here since we moved, around a decade ago. It felt so strange, yet comfortingly familiar. I turned into the cul-de-sac I remember so fondly, noticing that the giant tree at the top corner of the road was gone. It didn't feel right. But then I got further down the road, and saw my old house. The first house I really remember. I turned the car around at the end of the road, and smiled to myself - the new owners have a Porsche too, just like my father did when we lived there. I almost teared up as I drove back towards the village, and wondered what it would be like to come back another ten years down the line. Or twenty. Or thirty. Will I ever go back again? The thought of returning some decades down the line brought a tear to my eye, as I realised how fleeting life is. With that, I drove out of the village, heading towards the nearest large town. I don't usually like driving through this town, but it was a quiet evening on the roads, and I just wanted to keep driving. I wanted to see where I would end up. So I kept going, passing villages, towns, old schools, old hangouts. I drove past a park where I remember spending hot summer's days by the river with friends, then carried on. Then I just drove. I didn't know where I was going, nor how long it might be before I reach the next town. But after one of the most calm, relaxing hours of my life, I reached a large roundabout and decided to head back. I couldn't believe the time, or how long I'd been driving for, but I smiled again and just carried on home. When I finally got back, just over two hours after I'd set off, I sat in the car for a moment, just thinking. I turned the engine off, and the my radio kept playing. It was the same song I'd had on the whole drive, without even realising. As I opened the door, a wave of cool air rushed into the car, and the music stopped. It was the calmest I've ever been in my entire life.