Bobby Scott and Bob Russell were certainly onto something when they wrote these beautiful words:

The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to where, who knows where?

In fact, they had only met three times and Russell was dying from lymphoma when they wrote the epic song He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother. The opening lines, above, have been with me every since I first heard the song in 1969.

It’s a permanent ear worm and I never tire of it. For me, the road has been long and it’s been one winding turn after another. It’s the last bit that has always haunted me.

I’m pretty certain that the road hits a dead end when we die and that we don’t survive our death. On the same basis, I don’t see any evidence of some grand design to our lives. We are here, against all odds, by the accident of our birth, and we can do things along the way to shape where life goes and that’s about it.

If there is no purpose to life beyond procreation, and if like me life has been a daily struggle to get to the end of the day, every day, then life has to be something, where possible, to be enjoyed and endured.

I hope I am finally beginning to recover from my 2017 mental meltdown, knowing at the same time that the depression and anxiety will always be there, managed by a combination of treatment, drugs and whatever mental strength I have left. Recovery is relative.

Who knows where it will end? I certainly don’t know. I fear that the things I really want to do in life and the places I really want to go to will remain undone and unvisited. I don’t think that’s unique to me.

I’d like the road to go on forever, if possible. Even when things are rotten, I’ve rarely go to a point where I’d prefer nothing. A long road will do for now.