I gathered the sunscreen, towel, chair, my favorite book and headed for the hot sand. I had been warned about walking onto the beach barefoot, but decided against the yellow flip-flops that I’d arrived with. I didn’t think that these particular shoes would convey the image of a “cool chick” out for a day in the sun. How could I expect others to see me as someone in the know, when I didn’t even see me that way? This was one of those first time things that sort of takes on a life of its’ own. There doesn’t seem to be a lot that you can do with it, except to give in to it.
Only seven days ago, I found myself lodged at a table with a call list of 100 names spread out before me. This would be my task for the next several hours. To contact these strangers and try to persuade them to pledge a certain amount of money for my worthy cause. Persuasion was one of my strongest tools. That’s how I had survived for the last five years.
Since my high school graduation I had worked several rinky-dink jobs in order to survive. I worked as a waitress, at a little diner in my home town. That didn’t last long. It wasn’t much of a challenge for me, or that is what I told myself at the time. I was well liked there and had met a couple of nice guys during my short employment. Of course I was still partying with my old crowd of cronies from high school and that wasn’t exactly what the doctor ordered for a working person. Mornings came way too early in those days. Drinking all night, for several nights a week, soon took a toll on my health and my looks. I had to get out of this town. That is the only way I could change my behavior.
I contacted some relatives and they pooled enough money to buy a ticket to Boston, Massachusettes. Why Boston? I’m not really sure, except that I knew there were men and money in Boston. Two of the things that I liked the most. The train ride up there was long and noisy. There were different groups of people who made their way on and off the train, while I drifted in and out of a restless sleep. I wondered where they were all headed to. Were they running to or away from something? Were they trying to find or lose themselves? Next, I asked the same question of myself. I had no answer. I was merely in transit. Going somewhere else. To try something else. No specific directions were given to me. I had to figure this one out for myself.
Soon, I found myself floating alongside a beautiful stream. I wasn’t traveling on the bus anymore. It felt more like riding on a feather, no more there than a summer breeze. I looked for the ground, for a place to anchor myself. A place to try and make sense of this array of happenings. At home, angry and alone, desperate move, train ride to Boston, and now here, wherever this is.