This week was the end of the soccer season for our youngest son. We finished his year with a road trip east and another one to the west, so I had an idea.

“Let’s make it our victory lap.”

Our family has been circling on a huge racetrack encompassing West Texas with large stadiums serving as the pit stops for years. Lubbock, Midland, Odessa, Dallas, Fort Worth, Abilene. Round and round we go.

I’ve heard that years ago these West Texas cities were spaced out by about 200 miles for the cattle drives. Thanks to some cows on the way to slaughter, we drive at least two hours away to play other schools in our 5A district.

Those miles added up quickly with three athletic sons. In fact, in this spring’s soccer season alone, we’ve driven enough miles circling West Texas that we could have gone to Miami and back (2,800 miles). When I added up the miles we’ve spent attending the varsity games of our three boys (2 played soccer, one played football), it totaled 18,700 miles. And that’s just varsity games.

If we would have driven in a straight line instead of driving circles in drought ridden West Texas, Gary and I could have crossed the United States from San Francisco to New York six and a half times. Or we could have driven two round trips to Anchorage, Alaska with miles to spare. Goodness, it’s enough miles that we could have gone south all the way to visit our friends in Venezuela and come back again.

Instead, we’ve circled the same 200 mile radius in West Texas. Many people in Abilene drive 2 ½ hours to Dallas to see a doctor, to purchase the perfect dress or to go to a show. We, along with plenty of other parents, drive 2 ½ hours to a game, then turn around and drive home the same night.

So last week I felt like we should celebrate our last games with a victory lap. I wanted to leave early enough so we could pull over occasionally to take pictures of the landmarks and scenery highlights.

I know that West Texans find lots of beauty in this countryside. But it’s different from what Gary and I grew up with in Louisiana. The beauty that we grew up with usually included green as the predominant color, and most of our scenery pictures have water. There’s not much of either where we’ve been making these laps. In fact, the most green we see is the artificial turf surrounded by a bowl of cement and stadium seats.

So it’s not that I think the landmarks are necessarily beautiful. But nevertheless, they are landmarks that I’ve seen time and time again.

This is a fan blade that goes on the windmills. You can tell how big it is based on how small I am.

I’ve realized that the land is so barren–dry creek beds and low growing mesquite “trees” spotted with windmills and oil rigs—that I actually look forward to the quirky landmarks along the way.

I’ve also realized that in a strange kind of way, I’ve grown fond of these West Texas landmarks. They are less about the scenery and more about a season. They mark a season of life for our family. They remind me of the miles traveled with the man I love.

And they mark a season when we’ve watched our boys grow up into young men.

Maybe next time we put this many miles on the road we’ll end up somewhere else other than back at our house at midnight (Anchorage sounds fun!).

But in the meantime, I’ll appreciate these West Texas landmarks that mark a season for our family, a journey well travelled.

( I’ll leave you with more landmark pictures below–quirky things suspended in the air higher than the West Texas trees.)