The Bend
“Are we there yet?”
It was the question she’d asked a hundred times as a child.
Now, decades later, driving through New Mexico with silver in her hair and memories in the passenger seat, she found herself asking it again.
The road curved between mountains worn smooth by time. Sage brushed the horizon. Clouds drifted like unfinished thoughts.
There was no destination marked on the map anymore.
For the first time, she didn’t mind.
Some roads aren’t meant to lead somewhere.
They’re meant to remind you that you’re still moving.
Photo prompt © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
With love, coffee, poetry, and stardust,
— Maggie The Afterlove Voice 💫
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