Some Roads Only Make Sense in the Rear-View Mirror

There is something about driving I-35 from Kansas City towards Wichita that gives you plenty of time to think.

The Kansas countryside rolls past, the road stretches endlessly ahead, and after a while you settle into that familiar rhythm where the road does most of the talking and you are left alone with your thoughts.

I remember one particular drive.

I was heading to Wichita to visit family at Lakepoint. A few miles past Emporia, I pulled into one of the service stations on the Turnpike.

Nothing extraordinary happened.

I stretched my legs, bought something to drink, probably used the facilities, and got back into the car.

Yet, for some reason, I still remember that little stop.

Perhaps because it reminds me of how life works.

We tend to remember the destinations.

The new job.

The business.

The big contract.

The house.

The relationship.

The promotion.

But when I look back over the years, I realise that much of life actually happened between the destinations.

There were jobs I took that eventually led somewhere I had never imagined.

Opportunities I was convinced would change everything that went nowhere.

Disappointments that felt enormous at the time but later turned out to be useful detours.

And decisions I thought were mistakes that eventually became important parts of my story.

Life rarely gives us the full map.

We make decisions with whatever information, experience and courage we have at the time.

Then we start driving.

Only after covering some distance do we sometimes understand why we ended up on that particular road.

Construction Has Taught Me the Same Thing

Construction is a good teacher of this particular lesson.

You begin with drawings, a programme and a budget, all looking wonderfully convincing on paper.

Then the ground decides it has its own opinion.

A supplier delays.

A design changes.

Something has to be demolished and rebuilt.

A client remembers something that nobody else remembers.

Suddenly, the carefully prepared programme becomes more of a suggestion.

You adjust.

You fix it.

You continue.

Sometimes what looks like a setback is simply part of the route.

I have become less interested in regretting every wrong turn.

Our younger selves were making decisions with the knowledge and circumstances available to them at the time.

It is rather unfair to judge yesterday's driver using today's map.

The Rear-View Mirror

The rear-view mirror is useful.

But nobody drives from Kansas City to Wichita by staring at it.

You glance back.

You remember where you have been.

You learn from the potholes.

You smile at a few questionable decisions.

Then you look forward again.

That, perhaps, is one of the things getting older teaches us.

Not every decision needs to be defended.

Not every mistake needs to become a permanent regret.

Some things simply happened.

Some worked.

Some didn't.

Some took us somewhere we never intended to go.

And somehow, we still arrived at another chapter of our lives.

Eventually, you take Exit 50, leave I-35 behind and head towards Lakepoint and family.

The highway has done its job.

So have the miles.

And perhaps that is the strange beauty of life.

We don't always understand the road while we are travelling it.

Sometimes we need a little distance before the journey makes sense.

Sometimes the wrong turn introduces you to the right people.

Sometimes the disappointment redirects you towards something better.

And sometimes an ordinary stop at a service station somewhere past Emporia becomes a memory you carry for years without quite knowing why.

Maybe life is less about having the perfect route and more about learning how to travel the one we are on.

Look ahead.

Keep moving.

Stop occasionally when you need to.

And when you do look back, don't spend too much time wishing the road had been different.

You made the best turns you could with the map you had.

Some roads only make sense in the rear-view mirror.