On the Road
She left the city before the afternoon’s slow descent into evening. The skyline shrank in her rearview mirror as she drove, finally turning down the noise of the day. The highway stretched ahead in soft curves, the pavement still warm from the day’s heat. She drove with the windows cracked and sunroof open, letting the wind slip in and tangle itself through her hair, hoping it might carry away the thoughts that had been clinging to her all week.
She carried a nagging heartache that she hadn’t fully named. Behind her, difficult decisions awaited like unopened letters stamped with deadlines to respond.
She took this trip to find a place where her mind could loosen its grip on the need to fight for survival. A place where she could breathe without bracing for impact. A place where honeysuckle-scented air made the universe feel as close as limestone under her feet. A peaceful green pasture she’d claim on her own terms.
The road climbed upward, winding into the hills, and the city quietly fell away behind her. She passed by fields littered with scattered live oaks, their twisted branches offering reprieve from the hot Texas sun. As the road wound higher, the oaks were replaced with Ashe junipers clinging tightly to a rocky terrain.
The Trail
When she reached the small parking area near the trailhead, she turned off the engine and sat for a moment. She had arrived just as the sun was beginning its slow descent, transitioning to the golden hour. The magic hour, when the world softened and glowed. The sky appeared as if lit from within, rejoicing at the conclusion of another day.
The silence felt like a hand resting gently on her shoulder. She stepped out, slung her backpack over one arm, and continued on foot.
Halfway along, she passed a picnic area beneath a cluster of trees. A couple sat close together, their heads bent toward each other in the kind of conversation that didn’t need volume to be intimate. She paused, giving them space.
Something about the scene tugged at her; a familiar ache, a reminder of a time when she had believed intensity was the same thing as love. She thought of him. The man who was lost long before either of them understood how to choose kindness over chaos.
She had survived that life; he hadn’t. And even now, after all the healing, the clarity, she still carried a quiet ache for the freedom he would never achieve. She didn’t romanticize their relationship anymore. She finally saw the difference between love and the chaos they lived in, but grief over yet another life lost to addiction lingered softly in her mind.
She had walked through dark valleys before, and she no longer feared the shadows that used to swallow her whole.
Stillness
Eventually, the narrow trail opened to a wide overlook. She stood at the plateau and breathed in deeply. The air tasted clean, touched with the faint sweetness of honeysuckles. Nearby, birds called to one another in the trees, their songs shifting from celebration to a gentle call home. The world felt tender in moments like this, when everything seemed to exhale with her.
She noticed a small group of trees growing near the edge of the lookout, pulled her blanket from her backpack, and settled against a tree with a slanted trunk. The sky above her shifted from gold to amber, the clouds catching the light like embers from a slow-burning fire.
She closed her eyes and began to breathe with intention. Slow, deep inhales, followed by long exhales. Her breath became its own kind of guidance, a quiet staff steadying her weary soul. With each breath, she imagined releasing the thoughts that she had carried throughout the day. It would be evening soon. Time to release built-up anxiety, let her body soften, and allow her mind to unclench, to move from survival into stillness.
“Peace,” the word whispered in her mind.
She mentally scanned her body for tension, imagining a warm, luminous light descending through her, a universal light, ancient and steady, nourishing every living thing. It filled her arms, her legs, her fingertips. She felt it radiate from her chest, soft and warm, like a quiet promise.
“He restores my soul.”
The familiar line rose from a hidden childhood memory, but it felt different now. She didn’t picture the God she was raised with. She pictured the universe itself, vast and humming, pouring strength and hope into her like water into a thirsty soul.
She opened her eyes again and watched the sky shift once more. The horizon deepened into red streaked with blue and pink, fading to a lavender as the first stars pierced the evening sky.
A small bird landed on a branch near her and tilted its head, studying her. She smiled, feeling the subtle hum of connection. She appreciated the way everything seemed to move with the same rhythm if she only slowed down enough to notice.
A breeze gently caressed her cheek.
“Love,” the word rose in her mind, gentle and sure.
A quiet fullness settled in her chest, not dramatic or overwhelming, just enough to remind her that her cup wasn’t empty after all. She let love join peace in her mantra, the two words weaving together like threads of the same fabric. She released the remnants of the day’s anxiety, letting each breath naturally ebb and flow like waves meeting the shore.
Her body felt grounded. Her mind felt clear. Her soul felt aligned with the earth beneath her, “leads me beside still waters,” not by scripture, but hard-won intuition.
The bird took flight and disappeared into a darkening sky.
She closed her eyes again, just for a moment.
“Peace… Love…”
She opened her eyes one last time as the sky entered its final sunset phase. It was now a rich periwinkle that darkened to purple at the horizon. The grey clouds still held a touch of the sun’s light. The surrounding trees stood proudly in growing shadows as the last colors of the day slipped into memory.
She sat quietly, letting awareness return to her body, to the weight of her limbs, to the steady rhythm of her breath. The sun had slipped fully behind the horizon, leaving only the last light sailors once used to find their way home.
The Return
She stood, folded her blanket, and packed her things. The world was calm and quiet. The walk back down the trail was easier, lighter. As she passed the picnic area, she noticed the couple was gone. She was struck by how life had a way of offering small tastes of joy even when she wasn’t the one sitting at the table.
The path downward felt softer, as if the stone itself had become the green pasture beneath her feet. As she continued down, she felt guided, not by urgency or fear, but something softer.
Something steady and full of grace.
Something like goodness and mercy followed her in a way she could finally accept.
Corners and Candles 
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