I believe in the long way home. Going twenty minutes out of my way, and it’s not that I don’t want to, but because I can. So I can ride with the windows down on a perfect summer day. So I can listen to the country side and indulge myself in it one more time before it is gone. Gone, gone to be replaced by sub-divisions and outlet malls. And so I can watch the fields of grass glisten and sway as the sun inches past the horizon one more time.
Sunsets, now there is something to believe in. The way that colors project through the clouds, as our closest star paints a mosaic in the sky.
The simple things I see on my long peaceful drive home bring me back to reality just long enough to remind me I’m not alone. It could be an instance of nature’s hard work, a person, an animal, or a collaboration of many things that give me a split second of relief. The relief that things will work themselves out in the wash.
All the problems at work or school seem to vanish as I see a pair of blue jays flying home to roost from their long day of gathering food for the children. I forget about the argument I had with my friend as I see a man and his dog playing in their yard. Then there are the neighborhood children jumping their bikes off homemade ramps of old plywood and dad’s brand new tool chest before he makes it home from work. Then I even forget (for just a second) that my boss wants me to work the weekend.
As I step out of my truck and stretch off my worries I realize there is happiness in what ever you make it, and those small things become the icing on my cake. I find myself staring out at the last faint shades of purple and red as the sun fades, and knowing everything will be ok. Then on the ground as Nikki, my faithful hunting partner knocks me over to give me her long awaited lick across my face.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.