The Toll Road

Part One: It's not if, it's when

I ended up on this road that costs you to be on it. You can’t turn around and the only way is through. I didn’t buy a ticket—but I was forced to take one.

As soon as the giant robot arms lifted, signaling it was safe to drive through, there was an undeniable energy shift. When the boom gates lowered, the skies became dark and cloudy, making the road feel anything but safe.

Blinking through the fog, I began to realize…here, there’s no sense of gravity. We’re just floating in the abyss on cruise control that I didn’t set, begging to find solid ground. My breath held. It felt deserted, like maybe I was the only one on this road. But as I looked around, I saw more and more people here with me.

Some cars are old and ragged, beaten down and their parts exposed. Others are brand new, never been scratched or bruised or tarnished. We are all existing on the same road, but all of the cars, on the inside too are vastly different.

Peering into one of the cars was a father and his three children— all yelling and screaming at one another. When I glanced into another, an older gray-haired woman was by herself, pounding her fists into the steering wheel. Another one passed by, and I saw a mom with red-rimmed eyes that looked hollow— just her and her four young children.

After weeks of traveling, there was a shift in the atmosphere as my car plummeted to the earth when gravity finally kicked in. Gasping, I tried to remember how to breathe as my lungs slowly filled with air. I reached around, grasping at anything and everything to try to gain control.

With gravity now playing a role, all of the damage to my vessel was painfully palpable. I flipped the visor down to peek in the mirror, but hardly recognized the woman staring back at me. I could still see remnants of who I was just before I handed the lady at the window my ticket. But when I looked into her beautiful green eyes, everything about her was different.

I slammed the visor shut and let out a primal scream as tears began to fill my car from the floorboards up.

A small voice came out from behind me, “Mommy, you will be okay.” My fear and anger and sorrow began to dissipate as the sound of his familiar voice grounded me. I looked into the rearview mirror and found a pair of hazel eyes staring back at me and a head full of curls next to him. “This can’t be real,” I whispered to myself, voice shaking and hardly recognizable.

Disbelief continues to race through my mind.

With both of my babies safe and sound in their car seats, purpose pumped through my veins. I buckled my seatbelt and attempted to shift my perspective into gear.

For the first time since I began the trek down this treacherous road, a sliver of sunlight started to peek in through the storm clouds that threatened to stay put. “One foot in front of the other,” I willed myself to believe I could.

As we passed mile marker 224, I felt the corners of my mouth turn up ever so slightly for the first time in days. I saw a glimpse of what every day used to feel like for a fleeting moment.

I tried to gather myself. To stay in that moment of happiness. But all of the what-ifs were all-consuming. Would have, should have, could haves. The overwhelming feeling of finality, questioning if the way I was feeling would be permanent too.

It’s all on an endless loop that I didn’t consent to hearing. But the pain I feel is vibrating through the car speakers and every time I try to turn the volume down it won’t stop.

Usually in the car we sing and dance, laugh and find shapes in the clouds. But this road trip has been anything but. The mundane tasks feel like I’m climbing Mount Everest. I’ve had a headache for days that seems to be my newest companion. The tears I’ve cried have now reached the seat that I’m strapped into.

Meaning there’s only a matter of time before we all drown.

As I wallow in the darkness that’s all consuming, I glanced up to read the two signs ahead of me. One said, “Exit 242 in 2 miles.” The other one said, “Exit 244” with two white arrows pointing down.

Taking the first exit, I felt myself truly exhale for the first time in months. “We are going to be okay,” I declared out loud like it was truth.

As the road merged with the next one….in a split second, everything went black.

I fumbled around trying to find a light, but…

”How do I light a match when everything is underwater?”

As panic threatened to take over, I heard God call out to me, “Just open the door”.

I pushed the red button that set me free, and shoved all of my weight and rage into the door. Desperate to get out, I pounded my feet against the stuck edge of the door. Suddenly, it burst open and every tear that I had been collecting poured out from inside. I reached for the two halves of my heart that beat outside of my chest, clinging to them with everything I had.

As my chest slowly stopped heaving, I peeled my eyelids open praying this road we’d been traveling on had finally ended.

Everything stilled and I started to take notice…

I could feel the earth beneath my feet, solid and far from hollow.

My ears heard the wind whispering through blades of grass and rustling the trees.

The sun felt familiar and warm on my skin.

Taking in the scenery around me, my breath hitched and tears began to pool in the bottom of my eyes. We were in the middle of a green pasture that was more beautiful than anything I can describe. Simple and calm. I spotted a rainbow off in the distance. Every shade of color bearing promises I prayed it would keep.