Roads

There's an Andrew Peterson song called "Many Roads" that I love. In it, he talks about people coming to his concerts, the musicians that play with him and being exactly where you are meant to be at that moment. Here's the chorus:

Could it be that the many roads
I took to get here
Were just for you to tell that story
And for me to hear that song
And my many hopes
And my many fears
Were meant to bring me here all along
We were meant to be right here all along

There are times when I think about all the roads in my life. Where I have been, where they are taking me and the memories associated.

Especially when I'm at home in Virginia. Just driving to church I see other people's stories all along the way. The place where a boy from my high school died in a car crash when he was 16. A barn that my PaJoe told me a dead body was found behind many moons ago.  Or so he said.

Those same roads remind me of driving to my high school in my sporty two-door Ford Tempo with the upholstery falling on my head from the ceiling. I was more than likely driving too fast listening to the country music station that I swear still plays the same songs from the mid-90s even now.

That was my first taste of freedom. Those back roads with no lines and wide open in front of me.

And then I think of the interstates between Virginia and Alabama. Taking me away from my family to another taste of freedom with college and then an adventure with a real job with real benefits and real responsibilities. But also to real forever friends, a life that was my own and opportunities I would never have had otherwise.

There have been many roads since then in many states. From Los Angeles to New York, Wisconsin to Texas. Many experiences, many people, many faces, many places.

But there is no road I love more than the ones that bring me back home again.

And then I wonder, what will my next road be?