🌾 I Didn’t Look Back. Not Once.

A moment of surrender, a roadside meal, and a tent pitched at the edge of the sea.

                                      (the gown and backpack symbolize my dual existence)

I left my biological father in Massachusetts and with a backpack full of all my belongings, started walking down the road.

I began hitchhiking toward upstate New York—about 300 miles from where I stood. I’d heard there were apple orchards there, and I figured I could get a job picking fruit. I’d done some fruit picking before and liked the purity of it. You just get paid for what you pick. No résumé. No interviews. Just work.

I didn’t look back. Not once.

Ahead was work, orchards, and the promise of something clean.

I got a ride right away. But it was getting late, and the driver asked if I had a place to stay. I told him I had a tent and could pitch it anywhere. He insisted I come home with him, eat something, and then he’d take me to a beautiful beach where I could camp.

Of course I was scared. But I figured my life was in the hands of God now.

Not in a dramatic way—just in the way you stop fighting the current and let it carry you.

I got in.

True to his word, I found myself in his house, just me and him, eating a meal. I wasn’t afraid of him. I’m good at reading people, and he was just a normal guy.

But to my surprise, I was upset—because I was lost.

I didn’t know how to get back to the highway, and it was freaking me out.

I couldn’t tell if this man would return me to the road again.

But he did.

He drove me to the beach as promised, and it was a beautiful place to pitch my tent. The sand was pale and clean, the waves steady. I finally let go of my fear of being lost. My destination of picking fruit felt flimsy at best, so I decided I would rethink it in the morning, if he didn’t show up to bring me back to the road.

Reflection

Sometimes the road disappears. Sometimes the map dissolves in your hands.

But the tide rolls in, steady and soft, and you find yourself safe enough to sleep.