The Road

It’s The People That Matter

There is a long strip of road I never knew existed when you turn off the busy street next to the CVS and Starbucks. Some say they don’t enjoy it because it’s too thin of a road; it’s hard to turn back around and some may even say it’s boring. Maybe even a little run down. I would go as far to say that many people don’t even know it’s there-tucked to the sides of populated streets. Just waiting to lead people to sleepy barns along the river.

I don’t remember the first time I was there. Maybe I had been there several times before, but was too distracted in the back seat to take notice- to take in it’s beauty. But this place is magical if you let it. The feeling encompassing that small road and canopy of green breathe a little of their magic into you- breathes in relief. My mom must have recognized this as a safe haven from exposure and as the selfless woman she is, she decided to share this place with me.

The date is unclear as is the time of year- maybe it was spring? I was about twelve or thirteen and I was struggling with the baggage that comes hand in hand with that age. Maybe I was dealing with more than I was able to recognize and only she could see that in me. She knows me.

Some of my friends growing up never spoke to their parents- I always wondered why. Because amidst all my days of relentless brooding, distaste for being easily read and my fear of seeing my own faults- not once did I ever believe that she didn’t understand. You see, if she didn’t she would have never brought me on that long trip of road time and time again. She wouldn’t have thought of it, wouldn’t have wanted to waste the gas or her downtime. Those thoughts were never present. And even if they crossed her mind, as they may cross mine now, she never made them known.

People do things differently, but my mom- she just so happens to do things and do them beautifully. Because it wasn’t the murky water next to the road, it wasn’t the frailty of the green foliage in drought ridden California, and it wasn’t the pristine, but uninteresting wineries we passed that gave this place it’s glow. I never went alone and that is why my place of escape worked- because I could always find my way back home.