State Highway 141

There is more road behind me

than there is before me.

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I know this. It is a reality of

this incarnation,

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this purpose,

this evolution of my soul.

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I have been consciously

reminding myself

*

that I am no longer

the boy, the young man

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who made so many foolish

choices, born of misunderstanding,

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born of anger,

born of lack of instruction.

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These ruminations spurred a memory last night,

of a late-night drive

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down State Highway 141,

returning from a party in Kingsville.

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Impaired, tired, I drifted off,

only to be awakened by the feel

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of rough ground beneath the wheels,

the wide grassy space between

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the highway pavement and the

King Ranch fenceline.

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I was moments away from

being a descanso on the

*

side of that road, one of

two crosses in memorium,

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because I was not alone

that night.

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As I gave thanks for the memory of that protection,

and all the other instances of mercy

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that have come my way,

The Spirit whispered to me:

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“Remember this. I do not make mistakes.”