There is a legend about these hills, this land, these farms. It dates back to the old times. The times of woe and sorrow for everyone. As I walk down the lonely gravel path toward my destination, I still can’t quite remember the legends I was told. I was too young to understand and now I’m too old to remember. Down the road, I can see the old Montgomery farmhouses standing erect and sturdy generation after generations. With its dusty red paint and almost shredded fences, it was a destitute place, a place left to rot in the countryside of Eddison, a small town consisting of 2,000 people. 613Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡycAHSs8PrU
My body aches and my mind yearns. That’s why I am walking down this lone gravel road. I have places to be, people to see, hopes and dreams to fulfill. What’s waiting for me down the road?
I can easily picture the people, my people, roaming these hills before the invasion and slaughter. I try to think of happier thoughts, of happier times in my life. But I keep going back to those stories that my grandmother told me. The legends that I vague remember but only can make out scenes and times. It was the only time we were connected in peace and harmony. But now that she’s gone, our connection is broken, lost in the abyss of the afterlife, if there is one. My solid rock is gone. 613Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTaNeYpy0X0
I can feel the rocks cutting and slicing my bare feet as I continue on, my determination to my destination blocked out any stupidity and idiocy. The pain wasn’t so bad after awhile. My feet began to get used to the uneven gravel of the road. But my doubts still linger between every breath. I should have worn my shoes before running out in full speed from the house, better still, I should have listened to Pa when he told me to wear my raincoat. The clouds above me showed signs of a storm. The cool air breezing through my pink dyed hair hinted of a hurricane approaching. I need to hurry. They are probably anxious for my arrival.
I can picture Piper smoking a vapor, just to piss off Mama. I think I can smell the strawberry scented smoke the wind was sending my way. I can hear whispers, voices too soft to fully hear the conversation. I can perfectly picture Pa cussing out someone on his cell, while Mama’s trying to snatch Piper’s vapor from him. Piper’ll laugh right in her face, pissing her off even more until the point of a faux physical altercation between mother and son. She can take care her own. 613Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi9WCSDwUhJ
I can feel the end of summer approaching as I approach my destination. I am alone here, on this old stretch of road. I am alone here at this old farm. I sit down, my heart beating fast. Did I miss them? Did they leave without me? How can they? Why would they? I start to give up hope for a new beginning from this destitute we call a home, but then I hear a persistent honking of a car horn a little far away.
“Samaira, What are you doing?”
His head is sticking out of the car window. The strawberry scent is strong now, persistent in the summer air. Mama’s reading a novel, her bare feet with its red painted toes are hunched on the dashboard. I looked down at my own scrapped feet, its toes painted in colors of pink, blue and green. He honked again. I rose quickly and sprinted to the car near the old barn. 613Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdGy2MDIqKz
“Sorry, baby, I had to get some gas. Pip drained it all after his ‘misadventures’ last night. If I hadn’t noticed we would’ve been stranded out here.” He turns to Piper as I take my place in the back next to him. I nod, I understand. But he doesn’t. Piper wasn’t the one driving, I was. But that was a whole nother story that doesn’t need to be told, nor remembered. 613Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlZnUNUdrsS
613Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXSDZSVmNu4
As we inched out of the farmhouses, I still can’t help but to feel sadness. My home, my place. I am leaving it all behind. I’m leaving memories, sorrows, fears, hopes, dreams. All of them centered on these farmhouses and this small stretch of road. The hours spent as kids roaming this land, placing our marks like we own it. That will be gone but it will always be remembered. I will always remember. 613Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKX2TMrtMFB
