Happy Birthday Raffa

I began writing Roads looking out at the red rock mountains of Utah. We were staying outside Zion National Park, appropriately our 26th campsite. Our journey at that time was nearing its end. As I sat down with my guitar and began to write, I saw the roads we had covered, the immense distance we crossed; the heartbreak and healing, the joy and sorrow. I saw the terror of dark, grief stricken days and the bliss of light moving through the forest. I saw the faces of new friends we made, people who pulled us out of ditches, only to laugh and cry with us and later feed us. I felt the cool rivers we jumped in after driving for hours in our burning truck without AC. I saw the wings of eagles soaring above us down unknown roads without a destination in sight...

These roads taught us how to be parents, they allowed us to feel close to our son and to get to know him. Every twist and turn led us through the valley of darkness to a place where we could feel our light begin to shine again. I recorded the song in Los Angeles, and I shared it with Jenna for the first time looking out at the windy roads of Big Sur highway. That landscape felt appropriate. We sat in our truck and cried, thinking about our precious boy and how despite our sorrow, the best thing that ever happened to us was becoming his parents.