Dirt Roads

Now that we have our house on the market and the ball is (or rather should be) rolling on to a different home, I find myself wondering what it will all be like. The house, the surroundings, the roads. I have no idea what lies in store for us with a new home. But the dream I have is simple.

Dirt roads.

I love dirt roads. There are few things as satisfying to me as that crunching sound of the dirt roads beneath my feet. Sure. I know the woes of country roads. They are a murky mud pit in the rain. During the dry heat waves of summer, the dust can rival that of the deserts. Snow and ice become death traps on those lightly traveled paths. And a bicycle crash meant picking hundreds of tiny bits of gravel out of your knees and a bottle of peroxide. Ouch. Nevertheless, dirt roads hold far too many fond memories for me. It reminds me of simpler times. Walking sheep with my brothers down the road as we trained them for 4-H. Racing bikes and jumping clods of dirt that pile up on the side from the ever-faithful road grader. Walking with my mom just to talk about the ways of the world. Delivering phone books all day in the blistering heat, then stopping for a coke at the 7-11. It was when hopping on a horse and riding for miles on end was just a normal weekend. I can still hear the clop-clop of hooves on the gravel, echoing between the miles of trees on both sides as I swatted away the horse flies. I remember all the good times we had as a family. No matter the trials life seemed to throw at us, it seemed like it would all be okay out there in the country. You could find us packing up our backpacks and walking or riding bikes to the nearest gas station to spend our meager change on candy (which of course was infinitely cheaper back then). Bug hunting, biking, walking, racing, running, wagon rides, learning to drive, and so much more. The memories flood my mind like a wave joy.

Yep. Something about those dirt roads just makes me smile. Sometimes, when I visit my parents' house, I just enjoy walking down those beautiful dusty roads. I take a deep breathe and close my eyes and remember growing up there. I picture my kids growing up there too and it's what I want most for them. To me, dirt roads remind me of a time when you take joy in the little things like walking your sheep or riding a horse. A time when you could fight to the death with your siblings but it didn't matter because you'd make up five minutes later on a bike ride to catch dragonflies by the creek. They may just be rock and gravel and possibly the bane of your car's perfection to you. But to me, they mean peace. And that, my friends, is what I dream of.