How Long Will a Road Last?

Reading "A Worn Path" by Eudora Welty has given me so much insight into the understanding and into a more in-depth comprehension of the true extent of the nature of love.

Phoenix Jackson, an elderly Negro woman, often takes a strenuous journey in order to retrieve medicine for her ailing grandson, who apparently swallowed some lye. To do so, she braves a forest that makes her fearful of its dangers, struggles through bushes that catch her dress, makes her way through a maze of corn, then travels down the simple road leading to her destination. All the while, she hardly ever depended on her eyes to guide her through this trek, only her feet.

It's implied she's made the journey several times before, as one of the clinic workers recognizes her as a habitual visitor for the medicine. In the end of this journey, however, she uses the only two nickels she received in her possession to buy a pinwheel to take back to her grandson. Through her struggles, her determination, and her recurring habit to make the journey several times over, no one can deny the deep love she feels for her grandson.

However, when I heard in class that Welty replied to a letter inquiring about the fate of the grandson, Welty's response was "Phoenix is alive." Putting the pieces together, I realized that the grandson was indeed deceased, and all Phoenix was doing was all for no further benefit to him. But how about for her?

With her grandson dead, Phoenix never had to make such a difficult journey to receive medicine for him. However, her persistence to do so just shows how much her love for her grandson is worth to her, so much so that she have up two nickles for a pinwheel for him when she could have saved the money for herself. Death may have put her grandson to rest, but it is otherwise for her love for him, and remains ever so strongly as if he were alive. It goes to show that nothing could ever shatter true love, not even death itself. Time may cause it to wear, age, and wither in its appearance, but it is an eternal treasure to Phoenix, and her appearance and struggles serve as a remembrance of that love, never ceasing. It is just like a worn path: worn, aged, crumbled, and yet it is still there, which also reminds us of those who first walked that path, and those who built it. Even if it were to be buried under several layers of earth, foliage, or snow, its presence is eternal.

I quote, not word by word, from our class discussion: "Love, like a worn path, is shown to be eternal in its nature, making every effort to brave the trials that awaits it, receiving scars, wearing away, and crumbling like dust, and yet in its quiet solace, it is there, still supporting everything that treads its earth. In fact, the degree to which the path has worn away serves as a true remembrance to its builder that it has bravely overcome both the test of trial and time."

And so, I have a question for everyone who reads:
By the time your final moments draw near, how worn will your path be?