Transitions are always unsettling, filled with thoughts of excitement, fear, anticipation, and anxiety. It would be great if we could set our personal GPS and follow the directions to our desired location, never needing to redirect. But, alas, that is not at the way life plays out and it really would be very boring.
I find myself at yet another one of those infernal crossroads. There is a warning sign that the bridge is washed out on one route and the other route is not even on the damn map. I am not even sure where it winds up.
Many years ago, on the way back from visiting friends in Texas and spending a memorable weekend with them sharing a condo on Padre Island, we decided to meet my folks who were vacationing near Branson, Missouri. We were up for an adventure and had heard of the beauty of Route 7 from Arkadelphia, AR to the Missouri border. So, we choose that route, the scenic route; the winding, mountainous, scenic route; the winding, mountainous, slow, scenic route; the winding, mountainous, slow, sometimes nerve-wracking, scenic route. The Ozark Mountains are really quite beautiful and this route is frequently referred to as one of the most beautiful scenic drives in all of America.
It was a beautiful, but long and harrowing 290 miles. It was treacherous, adventurous and a thousand times better that any conventional route between point A and point B. I am glad we chose the route we did and I remember it vividly over three decades later.
Not too many people choose the Route 7’s of life, but the people who do, don’t often regret their decision.
Originally posted May 1, 2011.