The Road

The road, of course, leads home.

Everyone has a road. When I was a kid, it was Sandy Lake Road, when you turned off of Denton Tap. It meant a long, hot trip was over and home was only a minute or so away. There is a point near the end of a long trip, somewhere before home, that that emotionally marks the end of the journey. It is the landmark that tells you to relax a little, or perk up a little, and know home is near.

Our road is, in a sense, our driveway, except that it is about a half mile long. It is just a white rock road turning off the blacktop and leading home. You can't really see the house when you turn onto the road, but it is surely there. You pass a group of live oaks, probably ten to begin with years ago. Now some trunks have grown together so it appears to be a group of seven. They tower over the road and are something of an icon of the ranch to us and others who come visit. More than one local has mentioned that he has always loved the trees and had always wondered what was at the end of the road.

Today, the road needs some work. It is rutted in places and some of the gravel has been pushed to the sides and into the middle. Grass and weeds try to invade from the edges and grow on the long mound down the middle. No one knows exactly when it was built, but probably around the same time as our house, a hundred years ago this year. It is solid, with a deep base, and the path is sure. But the surface does get worn and torn by the traffic from cars, pickups, and cattle trucks - just everyday use. It can be muddy when it rains, messy when the cows are around, and dusty the rest of the time.

It is an old road for this place, but a new road for us. It used to mean we had arrived for a vacation or holiday. But now, we will drive it every day, even when it may be muddy or messy or dusty. It is our road, now.

The road, of course, leads home.