A road looms before me. Oh, it is filled with people, yes, walking, shuffling, running, or crawling in the same direction as me. But I walk this road for me and people I care about. This road leads far off into the horizon, to great distances clouded to me. Its destination? I do not know. The only thing I know for certain is when I reach it, my journey will end.

On this road I meet many people. We converse as we go down our way. Most are friendly. Some are mean. Most help me up when I trip. Some intentionally push me down. But I don't mind. So long as I keep walking down this road with people I want to be with, though eventually I will have to part with them at forks in the road. Yet we all know our destination is the same.

I often stop walking and rest in the shade of nearby trees that bear fruit, which I pick, eat, and occasionally share. I discover that most taste mild and tangy, some cold and sour, and a few warm and sweet. Why do I eat them? Because no matter what flavor they are, I must find the energy to keep moving forward down the road.

But that brings up the question: Why do I walk at all? Do I not tire of sore feet and muscles? Do I not tire of coming across so many bad fruits? Would it not be the same if I were to quit my journey right here than to finish it? I'd be done eiher way. So why do I walk this road?

I suppose it's because I'd rather walk as long as I can before I'm forced to stop at the end. Because when I do finish my journey, I can no longer know the joy of walking again, of meeting people, of tasting fruit, or even the sensation of tired feet.

Unitl the end has come and I've walked my last step, I will gladly journey down the road.