For days i’ve been drawn to the road. It calls for me in a taunting tone. I dont know why but it scares me. Ironically this road is one of my favorite roads. An ideal picturesque country road. Beautiful fields on both sides stretching a mile or so across before it hits the other edge of the valley. The dashed yellow line down the middle never seems to end and after a while becomes almost hypnotizing. I like to think the road itself reflects me some what, slowly getting worn down flood after flood, just like me.
I drove on it three times yesterday, the first 2 times i couldn’t and i knew on the third time i would be able to. I was incredibly anxious but I longed for the road. It was about 10:30 at night and no one was on the road or to be seen anywhere. So i stopped in the middle of the road. Turned off my car, and got out.
I watched the fog banks move, in and out of the cove, one moment clear, the next, nothing like waves slowly laping up on the shore. Everything was still and silent for the moment. Every once and awhile off in the distance ducks would quack. The fog banks continued to wander aimlessly around the valley. The road was wet from the fog and drizzle. The yellow line faded in and out of view off in the distance as the fog slow danced. I walked the yellow line like a tightrope. The black asphalt a dark unknown. I walked the tightrope into a wall of fog, and for a moment, all I saw was the fog. A moment later, the fog parted down the yellow line telling me where to go, and I followed. As I continued to walk the tightrope I eventually arrived back at my car, it was time to go. The tendrils continued to slowly reach in and out of the cove as I went on my way.
It was peaceful and magical but also scary, the road seemed to have a mind of its own. I’m not quite sure what to think.
No closure came from my stop, and the road still becons me. I feel the tug of not only its peace, but also its torment that haunts me. So all I can ask is why?