Hitching a Ride West
Your name is Neil.
It is 1973 and your mother died last week.
She raised you alone. You try to think of her as a woman full of life but the truth is different. She lived her life in a deep depression that she wore like a cloak. Moments of fun and joy stand out here and there, but they stand out so brightly because they were so rare. She did what she thought was right, you tell yourself again.
You had her cremated, spread her ashes at the park, and said your goodbyes.
A few days later you quit your job, packed a bag and got the hell out of town, hitch hiking West.
It is 1973 and your mother died last week.
She raised you alone. You try to think of her as a woman full of life but the truth is different. She lived her life in a deep depression that she wore like a cloak. Moments of fun and joy stand out here and there, but they stand out so brightly because they were so rare. She did what she thought was right, you tell yourself again.
You had her cremated, spread her ashes at the park, and said your goodbyes.
A few days later you quit your job, packed a bag and got the hell out of town, hitch hiking West.