A Thousand Miles, And A Poem

This summer I’ve driven well over a thousand miles across the southern states of America. I’m thankful for good air-conditioning, good music, good company (my family), and Chick-Fil-A. I like driving, which certainly helps, even if I have to think hard to get in the car on the side that has the steering wheel, after living in Ireland so long. We’ve been down highways through forests that seem to never end and we’ve been down country roads through corn and cotton and tobacco fields that grow outside of small towns where people sell fresh peaches and watermelons from roadside stands. Every few minutes there’s another white steeple on another red-brick church. One of them was just letting out from some kind of event, and the people were leaving with take-away boxes of food which was probably fried chicken and green beans and devilled eggs or some excellent kind of pie. I would have liked to pull in but it would have been strange for us to arrive at the end as total strangers. I don’t even know what town we were in, because I don’t have to keep track of that kind of information anymore thanks to the sat-nav. I just follow the blue line, keep an eye on how much fuel I have, and enjoy the view. Eventually, we get where we’re going.

As we’ve driven past so many towns and homes and cities that belong to so many strangers, I’ve been reminded of how big this world is and how many people like me are living in it. The road goes on and on ahead of me and splits into millions of different directions, and every one of them is the way someone drives to get home, or visit family, or step into a new opportunity. There are so many places I’ll never see, or only get a glimpse of. There are so many people I’ll never meet, or get to know. Each place and each person has their own story, and I am humbled by the sheer number of them, and thankful that God gave me a place in this world, too.

Road Trip

The tyres on the tarmac
Are the steady thrumming bass
Underneath the road trip music
As I move from place to place

Trees and towns and numbered exits
Homes and farms and advertisements
On and on and never ending
As the tyres keep on spinning

Roads go off in all directions
And I’m sure they’re going to
Places old and steeped in history
Yet to my eyes, all is new

And the blue line on the map will
Guide me on and ever onward
Though I don’t know quite exactly
Where I am
I am not bothered

I might stop and get a coffee
When the tank is close to empty
From someone I’ve never seen in
Some place I have never been

And I will reach my destination
Though the road is very long
As the tyres on the tarmac
Sing their steady humming song