I was driving through from Nashville, TN, to Los Angeles, CA. I stopped at one of those all-American grease joints. Not even the water is healthy. When I parked, I noticed the brick-made fence was laid overlapping. It’s like it was built to be walked up like steps. So I got my food to-go. I climbed up the stair-like fence and made my seat up top like Humpty Dumpty.
“What brings a Virginia man to Arkansas?”
She had brunette hair frizzy and freewheelin’. Just like her lips, her words were thin. But she had my attention.
“Nothing really, this state is just in my way,” I said.
“Just passing through then?,” she asked with a smile.
“Yeah, you’re not from around here,” I said, sure of myself.
“No, I’m not. How’d you know?” She asked.
I said, “Sometimes you can just tell.”
We looked at each other, curious…
“Do you want to join me on the wall?,” I asked.
She said, “sure.”
She told me a bunch of frivolous details about her life. All I really remember was that she was from Florida “originally.” Meaning she was born there. But judging from the way she asked me of my travels, she hadn’t been outside of Arkansas for a while and definitely hadn’t traveled much.
She was obviously yearning for something else. A sense of travel, maybe even looking for danger. She was also “homesick.” I couldn’t help but wonder how she’s going to feel when she steps foot back in her old hometown. When she realizes, it’s not what she thought it was. It never is. Just as a city a decade or so later isn’t the same city just older, it’s a completely different place, entirely unrelated. That’s how she will be from her hometown: Different and unrelated.
She left, I think with a glimpse of what she was looking for. And I? I hit the road. My eyes open wide. My heart open to the world. I chased the sun out west. I’d be in Oklahoma City in time to enjoy the nightlife. Having more conversations with more people, ever excited about life. But that’s another scene for another time.