September 16, 2012
I don’t know where I am.
I guess that happens when I’ve
been wandering for a week. And yes, I mean
wandering. No car, no phone, nothing to give
an indication besides license plates that I keep passing. I think I’ve been heading west since I’m
always facing the sun at sunset, but other than that, everything I know from
wilderness survival could be read in Hatchet. I am well and truly lost.
It’s actually kind of
reassuring, satisfying even. I’m alone,
completely, and yet I’m not too worried about what’s going to happen. I’ve been passing through a couple orchards,
working for a meal here and there…and yes, lifting a few apples when I could
get away with it. I’ve slept in barns, in
trees, I’ve even slept in a shelter when the night dropped below freezing. I’ve changed clothes twice this week, and my
showering has been a stream last Thursday.
I should be miserable, but I’m not.
I guess I’m a bit insane, just enjoying the solitude.
I met a farmer this past week,
just off the highway. I hadn’t seen
anyone yet that day (been testing out flying, and the trees are the best way to
avoid people), so I landed in her wheat field.
Yes, farmers can be women too. She
glanced at me as I walked up to her, and I could tell that she wasn’t expecting
to meet anyone today either.
“You lost?”
“Yeah.”
She threw a pair of gloves to
me, pointed out a weed and told me to get to work. I’ve never weeded before, and she smacked me
a few times before I started getting the difference between a weed and wheat. It was dark before we headed into her house…house. It was a kitchen, a bedroom and an
outhouse. Houses these days have less
lawn than brick. Hers didn’t qualify.
We had dinner together. She made the bread herself. Who does that?
Right now I’m typing this out
on her laptop computer (no bathroom, but wifi…America). There’s a bundle of blankets on an air
mattress, and I’m getting a pillow that’s probably older than me. Last month I was set for making fifty
thousand this year. I had my own car, my
own house, and now I have two changes of clothes. So why am I happier now then I was back then?
I’ve lost everything, and that is
truly liberating. I don’t need to worry
about what my reputation is. I don’t
have one anymore. I don’t have a job, so
no need to get up in the morning. And above
all that, I’ve got nothing to tie me down.
If anyone ever finds out about my flying, I’m gone. I’ll be across state lines before the cops or
men in black can ever find me. I’m well
and truly free.
Yay.
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