As I started my commute this morning, I noticed my odometer was only a few miles short of hitting 97,000. My mind flashed back to making my first car purchase. That 2002 Chevy Impala had just over 97,000 miles on it but all I could see was potential. That car was freedom. I held pride in the purchase I had made. I wasn’t focused on where the car had gone or what it had been through but instead on where it was going and where it could take me.
I’ve had my current car for several years now and its mileage doesn’t bother me because I got it with lower mileage and have kept up on its upkeep. Now in my forties, I have am continuing to pile the miles on. Not just the years but the stresses and events and memories. I hope that I find more chances to look more at where I’m going and even look at myself as someone with potential and not just focus on the years of wear and tear. I have an infatuation with being transfixed on the what-ifs and seductive alternate scenarios of the past. I look at the things missing from my life that will never be returned. Maybe I can take a look at see the freedom I have to take myself down roads I’ve never been and make the miles count.
Junction Point 