by Smitty
Dear Mom & Dad,
I knew you wouldn’t approve, so I didn’t ask. I’m going to the Big City. Boise.
Don’t blame yourselves. You are wonderful parents. I wouldn’t’ve had the money for the bus ticket if you weren’t so good at teaching a girl how to raise hogs.
I’ve got a roommate and a job lined up. I’ll see about school this fall. I know the money situation, so I won’t ask.
Brian is going to take it hard. I don’t hate him, but just wasn’t going to be happy on the farm.
Love,
Joeanna
P.S.: I remembered my Bible.
via Darleen
You can’t go home again, they told a fresh-faced girl in her rattletrap car. Like seeing the hundred story towers of Emory City was a religious experience on parallel with redemption. I heard the lying mantra a hundred times during my first ‘grown-up’ cocktail party.
Three weeks later, and about to have a hopeless job as a clerk, or give away my self as a mistress to a fat man, I chose a medical experiment.
I got told it under two suns, and in a metropolis where men and women flew, and in a city so vast it ran from the Med to the Antartic. I saw it written in a language forty thousand years dead on the eight hundred mile shock absorber positioned between the Moons Prentice and Journeyman
Its a lie.
I’m walking home, and happy is my step.
Stuart loved that blue dress. I did too, once upon a time. So when he told me, “meet me at the end of the lane, and we’ll get us both the hell out of here,” I knew I’d wear that blue dress just for him.
I walked all the way out to the road and waited. About mid-day I finally figured out that Stuart wasn’t going to show. Never did, never would.
I felt foolish lugging that big old Samsonite full of dreams back up to the house. Mama didn’t say a word. Never did, never would.