The roads wind certainly for a reason. One being to just slow down. 

We meandered through the red rocks, taking advantage of each pull over, to catch our breath and hopefully a picture worthy — a picture not to say “We were here,” but “Look, look what is here!” 

The first looked like a pipe organ, and I could hear it before I even saw it. The puffs of air building, thrusting to the sky. Songs moving the clouds to make room for their joyful noise. And then the archways. “Never around,” they remind, “always through.” And the white of snow makes the colors pop more than any summer day. And I forget about the cold.

I have the pictures in mind and pad. And I hope I remember. On a future day, when I find myself curving my way through difficulty or uncertainty, I pray I remember, the road is winding for a reason.