The Roads We Travel

A few weekends ago I drove to Farmville, where I studied English as an undergraduate student, and I was hit with so much nostalgia along the way. That drive down 460 East is one that made me who I am today--the curves and stop lights and long straightaways lead to a place where I read hundreds of pages a week, made some of the best friends, finally understood what kind of person I wanted to be, and eventually met Rob at a Halloween party six miles down the road.

Every time I visit, I drive that road and think about fall and winters past, about the semester I read Clarissa, about the amazing friendships I made, about  broken hearts that healed and made me thankful,  about that one overlapping year where Sean and I were at school together; our standing lunch dates where we would eat soup and grilled turkey sandwiches dipped in honey mustard, his visits to my place from his dorm room to do laundry and homework with me, and that overwhelming reminder of the gift that your brother is one of your best friends.

There are so many roads that make me think--the road from Roanoke to Charlottesville and back, the road I drive every morning from my parents' house to downtown Roanoke where I went to high school and now work, the drive from downtown to Hollins where I went to graduate school. All of these roads that signify seasons of my life that have passed, but that I still hold onto with some of the best memories.

When I drive to Northern Virginia to visit Rob, or when we meet somewhere in the middle, I like to picture a day when we wake up every Saturday morning, cozy and settled together in our own permanent home, looking back on those days that we used to travel so much to be together.

Life sometimes puts a lot of miles between where one is and where they'll end up.

I'm getting there.