It wasn’t until four years later that I finally found them; never have I searched for those roads, but in having the knowledge that somewhere, somehow, they reconnected with each other, I would become intoxicated by thought time and time again. The notion was far too romantic. A highly intelligent people, mankind holds to it a fact that such boring, inanimate objects have no compassion for romantic and humanly pleasures such as love and compassion.

To me, those people are preposterous. I had seen those two roads once before when I was a boy. Although just plain and simple, those roads had complete control over me. I asked all around to find as much information about them as I could. My search never had really amounted to much. “They’re out there”, I often repeated. I frustrated myself, and those around me whom I had severely neglected. Labeled as selfish, I scraped what humility I had left, and decided it my best option was to leave. So I did.

Finally, one day, I had found them in the middle of the great Mojave. I remember the day far too well. No clouds had existed in the sky that day for it was as if the ever-radiant sun had banished any substances that dare to cross its path. The sun did exactly that. Massive amounts of sweat dripped down my face. I could make out the hints of salt as, one by one, droplets rolled onto my lips. My entire body was fatigued. I knew I could no longer keep on. It was at that ironic, final moment when vultures were circling and tumble weeds were rolling and my mind desperately was trying to keep me going that I had been saved by no one living thing. I was not helped by the organic matter in my head nor the bitter motivation that, at that point, coursed through my veins; adrenalin had accomplished nothing while those two roads saved my life.

They amazed me. Just as I had imagined, the two once again rose into the sky and back down unto the parched, dry earth. Never before had I questioned why this structure existed out in the middle of nowhere. As one came from the south, the other approached from the north. They embraced and loved one another from the moment they made contact. Beam by beam, they ascended into the sky in the glorious arcs and precarious angles that I had remembered. A simple complexity had been laid out before me and I had yet to understand. Without the northern extension, the southern bit had no way of touching the sky and the northern extension had no way of knowing when to come down without its southern bit. From a distance, the lovers existed perfectly; upon closer examination, the two had their share of subtle imperfections.

The cracks and the bumps and the litter and the dust had all but scathed the surface of the seemingly-impenetrable concrete. The dust got in the cracks, and the litter kept its deal to cover its accomplices. Those cracks had stretched in all variations of direction and magnitude with massive differences between size and length. I again was reminded of the simple complexity which I was, at the time, unable to comprehend.
It did not matter to me because I knew that somewhere and somehow there were people who had cracks filled with dust which were covered by litter.I knew that somewhere there were people who belonged with one another because one of them needed to be taught how to fly and the other needed to learn when to come back down. I knew there were people who could not exist without one another. Despite having once been so far apart, and so unknowingly close, they all shined as bright as the stars in the sky. Those people were safe and they continue to be happy and they were complete and they continue to be loved.

Somewhere, and somehow, another person like me had found these roads. I do not know who they were, when they had come, or why they were here but I knew that I wasn’t alone because they had written “I love you and all of you and not one bit less” on the side of the road before the beams rose them up to the sun and the sky and the birds. I knew I was not alone because somewhere and somehow, I knew I would collide with someone and be pushed up into the sky and feel the warm glow of the sun on my face and I was perfectly content with knowing that my time would come. Never had I thought “if not now, then when?” I felt a connection with the other person who had written on the road so I decided to write back. I had managed to scribble something into the concrete and into the earth and into the very plane of existence that I had believed to forever hold truth and importance:
“I love you more and I loved you then and I loved you before, yet I’ll always love you more from the bottom of my heart to the top of the skies because it is your eyes that make me smile and it is my guise that wears you down – you loved me then but you don’t love me now.”

A drop fell off of my face onto the area where I had written. At that time, I did not know if they drop was comprised of sweat or tears or a mixture of the two. I did not know if I had wanted to live up to what I had written, or if I had believed it to be one-hundred percent true. I wrote my name and the date and the city I was to finally arrive in by the end of the week.
A wave of sorrow flowed over me because I had known that if I were to leave, the roads no longer would be together. Yes of course they would be but only in memory and the past but not the present but that did not bother me as much as I thought it would because the two roads had once met and left each other and finally, eventually and fatefully found each other yet again on a path that had to be planned out beforehand.

I had no trouble when I eventually had to stand up and take my leave. I knew that somewhere and somehow I was needed and that the two roads would once more rise up with each other and turn into a creation that held such beauty that it disgusted me.

I needed to go home.