The story of my life in another’s beautiful words.
We are small town. Small town. We are 509 branded. This isn’t our first time at the rodeo. We’ve actually been to a rodeo. State fair. Church camp. Backyard barbecue slip n’ slide bonfire inner tubing star-gazing. Our lives are mapped by rivers and mountain ranges. Our futures are shaped by agriculture, where our parents worked, GEDs.
We drive in pick-up trucks. There used to be a drive-in theater, and people filled it on Friday nights to watch double features. We hang out in the Jack-in-the-Box parking lot and cruise Nob Hill. We’ve run through the orchards at night, laughing. We sneak into the public pool late at night to swim the empty waters. We skinny dip in lakes. We’ve gone ice blocking drunk. We get drunk in parking lots. We wander through Walmart in the middle of the night because there’s nothing else to do. There are two…
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