Miles

Momma’s house was a thirty minute drive from town, a sixty minute bike ride, or a ninety minute walk. I took the latter – the safest of the three. I was a walker. I walked everywhere I went; I walked to work, I walked to the library, and I even walked to college. I didn’t mind the walking – the never ending trudge towards my destination. It kept me slim and fit, not to mention all the scenery I was exposed to every single day of my life, walking down those old, dirt country roads.

Today was just another one of those days. I woke up a six o’clock, hopped in the shower, threw some clothes on, grabbed a Poptart, and hauled tater out the door to work. Momma was still sleeping usually, or she’d make me some apple cinnamon oatmeal. My stomach churned just thinking about it.

Every single time I walked passed these fields of endless grass I always wanted to run through them. I had an image of it in my head – myself and some boy frolicking through the wheat fields, having the time of our lives, but I didn’t really know any boys. I knew my momma, my brother Graham and my sister Luanna, but that’s really it. We weren’t the meet-and-greet kind of folk. We kept to ourselves out in the farm country, which is what I loved most about it here. It was miles and miles away.

People always asked me when they drove by if I’d like a ride. The answer was always a ‘no.’ They were persistent people, though, and asked damn near every day. I found it to be comforting, knowing the people of my town were so helpful and kind. I just didn’t want in their cars.

I didn’t want in any car, really. It was nothing personal. I just didn’t like cars.

So I’d shake my head no, thank them, and continue on my journey into town. It wasn’t a long journey. I didn’t mind.

It wasn’t a long journey.



I liked sleek cars – sleek, nice, pretty cars, that glistened even when there was no sun. I liked them low to the ground; quick, deadly, menacing. They’d stare at me like they were going to devour me, those cars. I hated them.

But I loved the sun, the birds, the grass, the gravel. I loved to take my shoes off and walk in the dirt, feel it ooze up between my toes and leave the footprints of my journey behind me. I was a part of this Earth. But so were a lot of other people that I knew – my father, my brother, my sister, my mother. My bird Charlie that died when I was nine. My cat Baxter Diesel that ate Charlie. They were all a part of this Earth.

Some more than others, but that’s not what matters.

What matters is that I hate cars, and I hate this man that’s about to stop and ask me if I want a ride into town. No, sir, I do not what a ride into town. That’s why I’m walking.

But I’d never say that. I’d just shake my head kindly, say ‘No thank you, sir,” and continue on my journey onward. My long, peaceful journey onwards.

My mind would buzz on my journey – on every journey. I’d wander off into some different place, like that was going to get my mind off of this walk. I’d twiddle my thumbs, twiddle pieces of grass around my fingers, watch the blood rush to the tips and turn red. It was only a temporary distraction, but God I wish I didn’t hate cars.



Two miles outside of town felt like a million miles from Atlantis. I knew it was there, but would I be able to reach it? Maybe. Did I have any more will power? Not at all. Did I want the self gratification I’d get upon reaching my destination? Of course. Did I want to ride in a car? Yes.

But I refuse. I can do this on my own.

“No I can’t,” I sighed, standing on the side of the road in defeat. I kicked at pebbles with my bare feet, gritting my teeth.

I’m sorry Momma, I thought to myself, walking towards the rusty blue car that was slowing down towards me.

“You need a ride, Norma?” Caleb Porter asked from the driver’s seat.

I sighed, nodded my head, and climbed in to his car. It looked just like Momma’s car. I loved Momma’s car so much. Graham, Luanna and I cleaned it with the hose when we were young.

“So, Norma, finally decided to trust the automobiles, huh?” Caleb started, already reaching town.

I shook my head. “I’m just too tired to fear, Caleb.”

He nodded his head. He understood what I meant; his brother had died when we were young also. It was nothing like losing your Momma, though – nothing like losing Luanna and Graham. Detroit does that to you, though. Detroit cars. They take your family in the blink of an eye.

I hate cars.