The Exits

As I began my trek to work this evening, I ventured a different path. Today, I came from an area that I don't normally travel from. In fact today I didn't follow my normal routine of sleeping all day prior to my shift. In fact, I remained awake most of the day. As I began my commute from the western side of the state, I couldn't help but admire some of the views along the way. 

With it being dusk, the views weren't that of the rolling hills along route 10, or the sights of Morris county. But I couldn't help but admire the lights that lit up routes 80 and 280. The lights shine brightly on the highways, and faintly trail off into the suburbs. From a distance it looks like an IV contrast pumping through the body as it transitions from bright in the arteries to faint in the veins. 

As I make my way close to the city, I am struck with a sense of déjà vu. Not because of the trip, but because of the feeling. It's a feeling that hit me several weeks ago as I returned from a football game. As I pass the exits along the highway, I can't help but recall the people who I used to know and the time spent at places off those ramps. 

Now I am sure that this sounds petty, but as I approached certain exits, all I could recall was road trips that started or ended there. The nights wasted bullshitting in parking lots on nights when you had school or work early the next day. The beers drank around fire pits, and even heart to heart conversations with those going through shitty times. 

An awkward feeling at best, but it hit home for a few seconds. It made emotions sink in. For a moment I felt uneasy. You begin to feel proud that you were able to branch out and meet so many people. Being a kid from a small southern Bergen county, from a town where nobody ventures out. You witness those you grew up with make lives there, they never get up and see what is out there. For them, God bless, but I don't think I could ever find myself settling down from the town of back stabbers and shit talkers. At a young age, and with the permission of my parents, I ventured out. And I encourage all parents to allow their kids to explore the world around them and meet new people. It builds character and allows them to understand life a bit better. 

My adventuring started with a bordering town. Then a town two towns away. Once in high school it was weekends spent in hoboken and jersey city with new classmates. Then team mates drew me towards Kearny where I fell into a group of friends (QP) in which we all still hang out today. These guys all live off of 15e or 16w. Or route 3. Or 21. Some live off the Belleville turnpike. From there, the exits were the side streets off the main roads. 

As time went on people moved away. Some came home, some did not. Some moved on, some were buried. As life moves on so do our circles of friends. But not those damn exits. 

In my education, an exit is always considered a way out. And it is in a certain degree. You can exit a house, you can exit a structure. But an exit from a highway simply opens up a new pathway. Yes, it takes you off of

The speedway, the express lane, but it takes through the area and allows you to see the world. You need to take life's local roads. It keeps you humble and forces you to appreciate things.

But as the commute continues, I drive past the exits, as well as the people who still live there. The memories jog as you drive along. You wonder what ever happened to them? If they still remember you? Is it all just a distant memory? The lights get brighter, the exits become closer together. You don't have as much time to think between ramps. The mile markers serve as a count down till the next memory. Each number correlates to a person or an event. It's those god damn exits... They really make you think.