Bear with me, everything makes me reflective, this time of year.
A road is a funny thing. Each one leads to somewhere, and away from somewhere else. The difference between the two, is the direction the traveler is moving.
Thanksgiving is the great traveling holiday. I always think about roads at Thanksgiving. It must have something to do with that song "Over the river and through the woods (to Grandmother's house we go)."
When I was young, we were always on the road to my grandma's house each Thanksgiving, and there was a portion of the highway that ran over the Ogden River, and through a small stretch of "woods." We could NEVER pass that place without someone mentioning that song. To this day, I can't pass that stretch of road without thinking of the song. I still feel compelled to mention it too.
Roads lead us to many places -- to school, to work, to our wedding, to the place of our birth and the birth of our children, and to the place of our final rest. Some roads take us to places we should not go, and some lead us to sacred ground.
I think about the roads I once took, to places that I haven't been in many years. I think about the roads I may travel someday, and the roads that lead to places I may never see, but maybe my children will.
I know it's a cliche, but for me, at Thanksgiving, all roads lead home. Home is more than a structure, more than an address. Home is love and joy and acceptance -- at least it should be. Home is where you want to be, more than anywhere else on Earth.
So here's to the roads you'll travel this Thanksgiving.
May they be beautiful.
May they be safe.
May they lead you home, wherever that is.