The Long Road Home

This book is not about one person’s rise through the ranks. It is about a road. It began in the mud, trampled into existence one journey at a time. Along the way, it collapsed, broke, and was dug up. It nearly vanished beneath the earth, too. In the end, it became the asphalt beneath the feet of those who came after. A stone marker once stood beside the road, bearing a year: 1992. That was the year construction began, and the year a young man first truly brought people together and made something happen. The road has no end, and neither do people. The ceaseless flow has never been about water. It has always been about people.