Where dirt roads were without directions or landmarks (unless you were from there, then you knew to turn at the corner where Kenneth’s house used to be). How often I traveled the six dusty miles into town. There, streets had stop signs instead of stop lights and were lined with houses that I knew what they looked like inside, and who was sitting around the kitchen tables (many of them, my relatives). Life took me far from there, four states away, and my time spent on those dirt roads and quiet streets have been few and far between. On Mother’s Day, my voice travels back on a different path, to be at that place once again…I’m grateful for the visit by phone, but there’s no place like home.
the road less traveled
is the one that takes me home ~
time to plan a trip
Shared at Poetic Bloomings