The road approaching our home snakes up a steep ridge toward Kincaid Lake and the Kisatchie National Forest. Its two lanes are narrow. There is no shoulder. Drivers can’t see the oncoming traffic until it’s practically alongside you.
I have learned to take these curves slowly. Many of the trucks coming down from the lake have a boat in tow. The drivers are often in a hurry, and so they race toward home. Their speed forces them to cross the center line at the curves, and their boat trailers swing even further into my lane than the truck itself.
|Paul Cezanne's "The Bend in the Road"|
Initially, this struck me as a hazard and a nuisance. My ability to have charitable thoughts about my fellow drivers was sorely tested. But eventually I learned that slowing down and looking for what might be around the bend gave me a deeper, abiding appreciation for the richness of the world I inhabit.