Crossroads
noun
• an intersection of two or more roads
• a point at which a crucial decision must be made that will have far-reaching consequences
The irony is not lost on me that at 40-years-old – at midlife – I moved to the Crossroads of America.
Terre Haute, Indiana got its nickname from the historic place where U.S Highway 40, the Old National Road that opened the west for settlement, and U.S. Highway 41, a major north-south route, intersect. It’s a clear point in downtown Terre Haute that’s marked with a historic plaque.
I posed for a photograph standing next to the Crossroads of America marker on August 6, 2016, just a few weeks after moving to Indiana.
The smiling girl in the photograph didn’t realize that moving to the Crossroads of America was not only a physical milestone, but a symbolic one as well. Because within a few years of arriving in Terre Haute, I found myself at the center of many personal crossroads with far-reaching effects. All of which shaped me – and are still shaping me – into the person I am today and for the rest my days.
It’s strange and haunting to look back at that photo. Sometimes I don’t know where I’m going or where I’ve been. So I’m grateful for memories like this, to help me see where I was and where I am today. And I’m grateful for that girl and what she’s given me.