When you travel the same route, day after day, it’s easy to miss things.
As I was driving down Highway 6 yesterday, it dawned on me that the corn was turning a gradient of green to gold. When did this happen?
Anyone who commutes knows that the morning ride is preparing for the day; the route home for decompressing and reflecting. We get so focused on the road that things can pass by unnoticed. The same goes for life in general. It’s easy to get into a routine – sometimes a rut – and miss out on the incidentals.
I lost a good friend a few months ago. Every time I said “you win” he used to point out that life isn’t about winning – it’s about the journey.
When I was a kid, we’d pile into the pickup and drive around the countryside, checking out the neighborhood crops, my parents reminiscing about “I remember when so-and-so lived there,” or taking note of someone’s new pivot. Brother and I still fit on Mom’s lap and we quietly marveled at our parents’ knowledge, and how peaceful and comforting the countryside was. It still is; I just haven’t taken enough time to indulge in nostalgia and “ag tour” as an adult. As fall approaches and the weather cools, I hope to get in my car and travel the dusty gravel roads myself and meditate on memories and take in the scenery.
It might be worth my tying a ribbon around my finger or posting sticky notes everywhere reminding me to feel the first drink of coffee in the morning or give a long look at the Big Dipper. I need to slow down and enjoy the journey of life – maybe you do, too.