As a kid, I used to think my parents created an auspicious nickname of 288 for the road between our tiny hometown and Houston. It was the road we drove back and forth almost every weekend growing up, and I was extremely fond of the 50 mile stretch on “288” where the 4 of us were together in the car for at least an hour each way. Only when I was older did I realize that the road was actually called highway 288 and it amazed me that my parents so coincidentally settled into a home that had such an auspicious beginning. Perhaps it is that lucky foundation that built a childhood that I am so grateful for.
Driving along 288 as an adult, I feel such affinity and fondness with this two lane road. The wide, grassy median, the greenery aligning both sides, the expansive open sky. Nothing allows the mind to wander with peaceful content like driving along 288. The impossibly flat terrain shoots straight with hardly a curve or turn the entire way. Imagine land like that hundreds of miles around 360 degrees every direction.
Just me, the steering wheel, and the road ahead. Occasional trucks and cars share the road, at equally moderate speeds, zooming along in their own careful way. I can swiftly and smoothly change lanes with a soft signal and the car yields to my command. Sometimes, I turn on the radio to have some low country music keep me company, or more upbeat pop or Latin music if I’m starting to feel the eyes droop.
Driving along 288 in the dark, whether late at night or early morning, also allows another form of peace. Pitch black, just the car headlights shining a piece of the straight road ahead. Darkness surrounds both sides of 288. A darkness that doesn’t feel frightening though, just endless, natural, and untouched. If I peer into the sky above, I can see the universe reflected in the stars. A part that always gives a heartwarming feel is the Welcome to Lake Jackson sign, posted just 10 minutes before arrival home. It used to be a white wooden sign with the symbolic tree and a singular spotlight. Then some years into my adolescence, it got upgraded to a fancier brick framed gateway with multiple lights welcoming those weary travelers.
288 is one of those places that I hardly noticed, until now, when bygone years pass and there’s a nostalgic appreciation for the road that always brought me home.
