Earlier tonight, I left my younger daughter’s basketball scrimmage with every intention of going straight home. But I didn’t. As I began the drive home, something happened. Almost as if guided by some invisible, yet strong, force, I found myself on my beloved River Road and began traveling along my familiar route.
It was pitch black, except for the occasional headlight of another car and the lights of the homes and businesses that dot my route, and the only sound was the music providing the soundtrack for my drive. The songs were as diverse as my thoughts, as Brad Paisley, the Time, Heaven 17, Neil Young, Mumford & Sons, and a host of other artists, provided a private concert for me. My thoughts drifted seamlessly from new opportunities to the only person I have ever shared this special drive with, and finally to my goals, hopes, and dreams. My past, present, and future converged in a bittersweet and beautiful collision.
I have driven hundreds, if not thousands, of miles on this stretch of road over the years, but every drive is different. Sometimes, I take to the pavement to try to escape from the intense thoughts and feelings that haunt me, as I try to distance myself from them. Sometimes, I simply want to soak up the beauty of the landscape, such as the white picket fence that outlines the wide open fields and the mesmerizing Ohio River. Sometimes, I hit the road to allow the motion of the moving car lull my baby soul to “sleep”, and other times, I drive to jolt my baby soul wide awake and to set my spirits soaring. Sometimes, like tonight, I just feel called to drive by something greater than myself, and I “hear” my intuitive voice and the voices of loved ones calling to me. I heeded this call, and I listened. I really listened.
During this particular drive, I was aware of the black ice, but more than that, I was aware of the feelings that bubbled to the surface, as I lost myself in thought and music. It is difficult to describe these emotions, but overall, I felt a sense of calm and peace, two things that I have begun to experience more and more, both on and off of the road. They have started replacing the pervasive sadness and anxiety that have been my constant traveling companions during these past three years, and I am learning to make them welcome passengers.
My drive was therapeutic. It was magical. It was serene. It was sacred. I set out in the cold and dark solitude of the night and found gentle warmth and bright light, and in the end, I found my way home, figuratively and literally.
That’s another story . . .
Categories: That's Another Story