What A Life

There are moments when I catch myself mid-drive, mid-thought, mid-mile, and realize how strange and full this life has been. Not always easy. Rarely gentle. But undeniably vast.

Last week, my best friend and I said to each other, “What a life we live.”

This is inspired by that short conversation.

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What a life I live,

Where days flow into night on the road,

Miles upon miles,

Countless rivers crossed

Each filled with their own stories

Of trappers, travelers, and wanderers.

What a life I live,

Seeing the old, Smoky Mountains of the East

Give way to endless prairies,

Only to be met by the daunting Rocky Mountains of the West,

Bringing to life the stories of frontiersmen, pioneers,

Outlaws and lawmen of old.

What a life I live,

To have friends scattered across time zones,

Living in places I once called home.

What a life I live,

To be obsessed with perfection,

And to restlessly fall short every time.

What a life I live,

Often void of certainty,

But calling the long white lines home

Both physically and metaphorically.

From windshields and rearview mirrors.

From friendships stretched by distance, but not erased by it.

From the tension of loving the pursuit of excellence,

While slowly learning that perfection is a horizon

You chase but never reach.

Yet, isn’t that the point?

A full life isn’t one that arrives polished and complete,

But one that keeps moving

Crossing rivers, climbing ranges,

Missing home, and making new ones.

If nothing else, this life has been untamed.

There’s beauty in that.

A life fueled by obsession,

And learning how to be free within it.