Running On

Gia and I sit in the Buick, waiting in line for gas at BJ’s. A cool summer morning filters sunlight through the windshield, warming us in the stillness.

I turn up the radio. A lull between songs, the murmur of a concert crowd—and then it begins. A pulsing rhythm. Jackson Browne’s Running On Empty, an iconic moment recorded live in Columbia, Maryland, 1977.

Lookin' out at the road rushin' under my wheels
Lookin' back at the years gone by like so many summer fields

Gia has lived in eight or ten cities in twenty years. No roots, nothing sustained. Always running to the next city.

Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive
Tryin' not to confuse it with what you do to survive

She runs from connecting, from herself. Surviving behind walls so thick they’ve become her identity. Pushing away anyone who might slip inside.

I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Lookin' into their eyes, I see them runnin' too

It seems like a sad existence, but it’s all she’s ever known. Performance as armor. Survival as self.

When she stopped trying, so did I. It’s hard to see value in someone who doesn’t see it in themselves. But she still lingers—in song, in unanswered questions I still try to understand.

I turn to her and say, “This is your theme song.”

Honey, you really tempt me, you know, the way you look so kind
I'd love to stick around, but I'm runnin' behind…Running On Empty, by Jackson Browne

Gia listens for a moment, then shakes her head. She disagrees.

But I don’t.