There is a vastness you cannot encompass, you cannot imagine unless you are standing at the reference point.

Dirt roads disappeared into corn fields and the reappeared into acres of greens and browns. The half dead and half awakened earth.

The rough dirt and rocks throwing
up dust from vehicles of weight and speed. Paying no attention to the earth dirt – the wonderings and the cravings of a new season; a new offering underneath.

I stood there with my blue and gray Vans with white shoelaces speckled with dirt
looking out as far as I could see.

I moved to the right, to the left, and turning a full 360. I see fields and greens, a far off pond, a house ready to spread out its wings; their barns and silos over their acreage.

The Midwest – there is space to breathe and there is space to withhold your breath- depending on your circumstance.

Here I am.

How did I get here?
How do I get out of here?

II.

This is when and where I want to retreat; my stomach starts to twist, as I remember so vividly.

Her side: I ran away before, fearing I may run away again –
this is one way of stopping it.

Fear I may actuallt be gay, one
way of separting me from it?

III.

My side: I wanted to be away from
the yelling, the crying, the hyper-vigilance of tip-toeing

I wanted to be away from the lies and the make believe, and me not being able to be, me.

I drew a boundary.

I rejected her anger, and by
doing so, I rejected her.

I rejected her sadness, her
unresolved trauma; by doing
so I rejected her.

I could not absorb anymore.

I shut the words down and handed
them back to her.

My mom was not being be heard.
But I was the kid, not the counselor.

I stood silent and refused. Her words fell to the ground, and I brushed them away.

She stared at me, and
I stared in return.

I chose not to fight her,
engage. It made her mad as hell.

Everyone allowed her to behave
as she felt. I thought it was
madness.

I wanted peace and quiet, and for the words repetively said a dozen times, Are you gay? to stop.

It did not go so well for me.

IV.

I am sent away to live
with Annie and the kids.

150 miles away – to Brandon,
Minnesota. Population 400,
stated as such on the green sign.

The first house – ten minutes to walk to the mailbox. Ten minutes back.

Second house – a few seconds to the mailbox and that gleaming lake across the street.

V.

I am 17.
I am in my junior year.
I have no car.
I have no job.
I am ten months away from
turning 18.

I have got to get on my own,
and I have got to figure a way
out of here.

VI.

I uprooted my depression and
I turned it into fighting anger.

Not at Annie and the kids, or school officials, of my teachers, or my studies.

No, I lit a match – outward.

I started to walk, and walk I did.

I tied my shoes, clicked my tape in my Walkman cassette, and I walked.

I walked across the street, and walked around the three mile lake. I walked just as the sun peaked and it eclipsed.

I walked between the towns; to Millerville; to Evansville; I walked miles and for hours.

I walked and walked and I
walked some more.

As I walked, I planned. I sketched.

I checked each box off – grades
I tightened. Car, job, money – checked each one with a thick black X.

That spring, I called my high school to re-enroll that coming year.

I filled out the paperwork, and opted for the post-secondary program to go to college
my senior year.

I told no one. It was hush-hush
as Annie kept trying to persuade me to finish up high school there. Hell no.

VII.

My life was taken away from
me, and I was taking it back.

I could not see or speak to my friends. I could only write, and write I did.

It was a long road. This is the short take.

18 came and what a glorious day!
No one was asking if I was gay!

Let me figure it out in my own way.

As I walked down the front steps, my mom opened the door – I turned. Give me your key. I handed it to her and turned away.

VIII.

A year later, my doc said, You are doing so good, so much better. My lungs, air
capacity, my energy. I was smiling again.

IX:

I remember so closely, the
time slows down in my mind.

Looking out into those fields – all around me – the dirt road disappearing and appearing once again, stretching the earth as far as you can squint.

My young feet, my Vans, the ones that were covered with dirt, trying to find their way back –

I sometimes wonder, Did that really happen? I have the yearbook to prove it.

I also know and realize, it could had been much worse. I was far away – but I was far away to have space to collect my thoughts and trace my steps home – a new home.

X:

I believe in our gatherers – you, me, us, everyone – we will lift this world with strength and light.

I keep saying this, I want it to stick.

Just keep walking,
walking,
walking – stay the course.

With each step your
life over there – I am pointing,
although you can’t see me.

Oh it seems so hard
to imagine.

The one you have been missing,
and wishing for again.

It will soon be Here.

Much love.