My New Driveway
This is my new driveway. It is made with dirt and gravel and is filled with potholes so deep and so wide, that you are afraid you’ll be swallowed whole one day. A cup of coffee is impossible. The guests quickly learn to wait the 35 minutes till Starbucks is reached since wearing the-coffee-for-the-road is the only other option. The driveway is more like a dirt road in that it is ½ a mile long and what with the potholes takes almost 4 minutes to traverse. And, on this driveway I pass a doe and her three Bambi almost every evening, the other dirt road that leads to the barn, the wild rabbit who lives in the thicket, the three little pigs, the 20 red hens and a partridge in a pear tree—well at lease there is the tree. When I do finally make the final turn that will reveal the home; I am usually caught off guard—the enveloping warmth of the yellow siding, the glow coming through the windows and the dogs awaiting my arrival from the front porch. Eyes alert. Tails wagging. This is home. This is home? I keep pinching myself. How did a girl born and raised in a place where the driveways and neat and tidy and usually long enough for a car, but not always, come to live here….and like it? That’s the journey. There’s a story. Come walk with me on my journey and I’ll share my story with you. It unfolds more and more every day.
September 13, 2011 | Share: