The W's, Continued 2...

Like the time I stood on top of Foley Drive and stared down into the distant valley tucked before Southington mountain, Twenty-Seven Autumn Drive tucked somewhere in the blanket of ragged crests and green brushy tops of the trees below, I knew about where I was. I knew that somewhere, past the twin power line towers at the end of my street, and the tall pines further away, sat Grandma's house. And roads led their--I didn't know the route, or which way was faster, all I knew is that if we drove for the right amount of time, and navigated through the dark, shadowy maze of traveling underneath the trees, we got their.

Of course the way above the timber looks better, faster. I wondered how long it would take one of the black crows that sat head-bobbing on the street post across the street would take to get their. To fly through the clear, fresh, open air, avoiding all the turns and trees and rights angles on the roads below. The roads seemed like a much more primitive way to get around.

We can't fly through live. Don't we all know this? Life only builds roads under the tree line, sometimes only thick, jungle-beaten paths that test our will and self control. Only those who can navigate the fights and deaths and drugs and manipulation come out on the other side, in the Edenic valley of patience and peace of mind. Knowing your living your own life, doing the right thing, and not worrying about the other people, good or bad, getting lost in the forest roads of their own journey is the key to reaching your destination, whether it takes years or just a few minutes across town.