The Long Way Home

There's a stretch of road I'll take even when I'm in a hurry. It adds ten minutes. It passes nothing important — a field, a bend, a stand of trees that goes gold in October.

I think everyone needs a long way home. A route chosen not for efficiency but for the small, unaccountable pleasure of it. The world keeps trying to optimize that instinct out of us, and most days it wins.

But not on this road. On this road I roll the window down and let the day catch up to me before I have to walk back into it.

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