This Road in The Day To Day Ramblings

I remember driving down this road right after getting my license at 16 years old and feeling free and young and wild and full of hope.

I remember driving down this road when I was 18 with my high school sweetheart late at night and pulling off to the side and making love into the wee hours of the morning in the backseat of his mom’s minivan with the seats removed. I felt passionately in love, respected, cared for, empowered and invincible.

I remember driving down this road when I was 20 and worrying about whether or not I’d make it into nursing school and feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, my dreams feeling so far away and yet so close all at the same time. I felt stressed and overwhelmed and anxious and tight chested.

I remember driving down this road when I was 24 and a new nurse. A coworker and I would buy caramel apple spices from Starbucks and put on Nickel Creek in my CD player and roll the windows down to let in the crisp autumn air and just drive after hard shifts, emotional shifts, scary shifts, intense shifts…we’d ride in silence and let the winding turns and steep climbs and belly dropping down hills melt away our stress. I felt unsure of where I was going, who I was, what I wanted and yet okay with all of that at the same time. I felt untethered and unrestricted.

I remember driving down this road when I was 25 and madly in love with a new boy I’d met on eHarmony. We’d drive for hours, talking and laughing, divulging secrets and hopes and long buried truths and I’d fall more in love with him by the minute. Sometimes we’d even bring along his dog, Claire. I felt incredible.

I remember driving this road when I was 28 and I couldn’t get pregnant and everyone else was pregnant and I was sad. I was empty, literally and figuratively, and I didn’t want to go home after work but I also didn’t want to stop driving. I would take the corners too tight, will the universe to give me a sign, challenge the laws of physics and go way, way too fast. I felt broken and damaged and alone.

Today I drove this road with my sweet baby girl asleep right behind me. We’d shared a busy day at the lake with some friends from the NICU and she had missed a nap. She’d zonked out just as we pulled out of their driveway but I needed her to keep sleeping so I just kept right on driving, to my road, this one special road, because I knew it would give me what I needed.

You can travel one end of this road to the other in about 30 minutes (depending how emotional you’re feeling and how fast you dare to take it), starting downtown in the hustle and bustle of the metro area and ending far out in the country, alone and with nothing but corn fields and tall trees to keep you company. I love the experience of traveling from one end to the other, from one life to another, the transformation outside almost always as impactful as the one that happens within. I’ve driven this road hundreds of times although never as a means to get anywhere but to emotional peace. It doesn’t connect me with a close friend or a favorite restaurant or even to anything more important than a T stop between two county highways…but I love it. This road has been my own private oasis, my own little security blanket, my own secret hiding place when everywhere else felt too hard or too scary or too much. I’ve driven this road scream singing Kelly Clarkson, I’ve driven this road wiping away tears from a heartbreak, I’ve driven this road stone faced after a tough day at work when someone who shouldn’t have died did die and I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. I’ve driven this road in good times and in bed, in sickness and in health, in richer and in poorer, when I’ve felt better and when I’ve felt worse. It’s seen it all.

I hadn’t really realized how often I’ve come here over the years until I looked in the rearview at the tiny, perfect human I created sleeping so perfectly behind me and I just felt whole. Most of the time when I’ve driven this road it’s been to escape something - a feeling, a person, a responsibility, an experience, a void - but today it was to keep something, someone, closer just a little bit longer. Today I drove this road to help my sweet baby girl catch a few more Zzzs, to keep her quiet and calm, to keep her happy and safe, even if for only another few moments and another few miles. Claire was behind her in her crate as well, also fast asleep after a fun day of swimming and tennis ball chasing, and it hit me that I had everything I needed in that moment in my rear view mirror. Rob and I are at a good place, a place of mutual understanding about the priorities we both have right now, and so while I wish he’d been home and able to go with us and share this day and this ride, because he couldn’t be but was happy where he was, I felt complete in that moment.

As the car hugged the corners and as the breeze blew in through cracked windows, as the bright July sun shone down through the thick foliage above us and created a dancing series of shadows on the dash, I felt thankful. I felt happy, calm, content and at peace. I felt good. This road does that to me. It is one of the quiet blessings of putting down roots where my story began. Thanks to living in my hometown I know of many little corners like this, quiet get aways, secret spots and this road has always been on my short list of favorite private indulgences. I hope to one day bring Leah back here when she’s learning to drive and to show her the thrills in these rolling hills, the quiet beauty of green cornfields as far as the eye can see, the blissful beauty in a clear blue sky unobstructed by street lights and tall buildings. This road passes less than a mile from our house but every time I drive it I am transported somewhere a million miles away. Today when I reached the end and turned around, heading back towards home, I whispered a gentle thank you to these miles of asphalt, these roller coaster swooping turns, these exquisite views and these unassuming, quiet farm houses dotting my path. In many ways over many years this stretch of road has been my mentor, my sounding board, my friend and my confidant. I remember driving this road as a new driver, as a new nurse, as a new wife and now as a new mother. Oh the stories we have shared…with so many yet ahead… <3

Last updated July 19, 2015