Pittsboro, NC – What’s left in the fork of life’s road? What’s right about what’s left in life’s fork in the road? No life is what’s left, right? We have a right to know what’s left in life’s road, right?
We all travel down that road. Or up that road, depending on one’s agility. Young or old, that fabled road lies ahead of us. Some with only a mile to go. Others hundreds of miles and hurdles to endure. A stumble here, a stagger there. A scare here, a heart thumping moment there. Blood pressure rising, falling. The expected result; appalling.
Stop signs everywhere, yield here, yield there, rest areas not there. Or anywhere.
As an old man, I find it difficult to yield or admit that trip down life’s road gets more and more complicated. The same old road, with more road blocks, more emotional trash on the edge of my life’s road. The pavement has more cracks and the center line is definitely becoming less distinct. Life’s noxious weeds growing tall with outlandish speed.
The mind withers and races at the same time. Filled with past pleasure and laurels.
Faint dreams of keeping pace, occasional stumble, desperately trying to save face.
At the end of the road there’s no place for a saved face. No use in trying to keep pace?