The Road
The road is a sacred place to me, and only becomes more sacred as I age.
People talk about the veins of concrete that rise and dip through the mountains and valleys of my great state like they are necessary evils, but all worthwhile things come with costs, and the most worthwhile things give back in spades. Thus, the highways and byways, the overpasses and channels that slither over ground as beautiful as any this side of Heaven. But only for those with eyes to see.
The road is my sanctuary. It is as safe as any place else, or safer, when you think of all the things that could go wrong on paths filled with so many people, and don't. It is where I go to tell my deepest troubles and there is always more road to hold the woe. I slip behind the cool steering wheel and take control of my meandering mind, or maybe I let the wheel guide my worried heart through familiar sights and streets until it is heartened.
The road does things for me that no one else can. It offers all the beauty I can stand for miles in every direction, from green sloping hillsides to a carpet of glittering lights; not even the setting sun can stop its bounty. And if beauty is not enough to ease me, the miles that pass rock the sorrows right out of me, one at a time, until I can follow their effects like white lines on the pavement - and eventually they fall behind, acknowledged and clarified.
The road does not judge. It has ferried every sinner, every saint. It knew me as a girl and knows me as a woman.
The road does not grow tired. It knows only me, and I know only it for a time. We ride together and maybe nothing is solved, but the journey is all that matters.
The road gives me the perspective for which people usually turn to Bibles. A scripture a day eased my grandmother. The miles beneath my feet soothe me. I can feel them slide by, almost like the earth turning.
The road was denied to my grandmother, who was not allowed to learn how to drive to her dying day.
I don't believe in cruise control. I don't believe in taking the back seat when you can afford to drive yourself.
The road offered me peace today, and I am only too grateful for it.
People talk about the veins of concrete that rise and dip through the mountains and valleys of my great state like they are necessary evils, but all worthwhile things come with costs, and the most worthwhile things give back in spades. Thus, the highways and byways, the overpasses and channels that slither over ground as beautiful as any this side of Heaven. But only for those with eyes to see.
The road is my sanctuary. It is as safe as any place else, or safer, when you think of all the things that could go wrong on paths filled with so many people, and don't. It is where I go to tell my deepest troubles and there is always more road to hold the woe. I slip behind the cool steering wheel and take control of my meandering mind, or maybe I let the wheel guide my worried heart through familiar sights and streets until it is heartened.
The road does things for me that no one else can. It offers all the beauty I can stand for miles in every direction, from green sloping hillsides to a carpet of glittering lights; not even the setting sun can stop its bounty. And if beauty is not enough to ease me, the miles that pass rock the sorrows right out of me, one at a time, until I can follow their effects like white lines on the pavement - and eventually they fall behind, acknowledged and clarified.
The road does not judge. It has ferried every sinner, every saint. It knew me as a girl and knows me as a woman.
The road does not grow tired. It knows only me, and I know only it for a time. We ride together and maybe nothing is solved, but the journey is all that matters.
The road gives me the perspective for which people usually turn to Bibles. A scripture a day eased my grandmother. The miles beneath my feet soothe me. I can feel them slide by, almost like the earth turning.
The road was denied to my grandmother, who was not allowed to learn how to drive to her dying day.
I don't believe in cruise control. I don't believe in taking the back seat when you can afford to drive yourself.
The road offered me peace today, and I am only too grateful for it.