I always dreamed of a place like this; lots of people, sky scrapers, and malls the size of my entire town – times two! Nobody thought I’d ever leave Guntersville, Alabama. But I did! I made it all the way to the big city!
As I drove along the highway, I envisioned exactly what I’d do; spend a day or two shopping, find a cozy downtown apartment, make some friends, and get a job. This proved to be tougher than I ever reckoned.
Day 1. I drove my truck through the city. It was nice to drive on paved roads for a change. I thought about the dust my friends and I used to kick up rallying down those old dirt roads. Suddenly the semi in front of my slammed on the brakes and *wham!* my truck was totaled.
I tried not to cry as I crawled out the broken drivers-side window. My arms were scratched and bleeding. I could feel the sting of glass scraping my skin. As tried to find money for the pay phone, a short boy who looked about twelve-years-old knocked me to the ground and held a gun to my head. I was more scared than a cow going to the butcher. The streets were packed with cars and the sidewalks packed with people, but no one gave me a moment’s notice. “What the hell?” The boy took my money and ran off.
The sun was setting low, though I couldn’t see it over the buildings, so I grabbed what I could carry from my truck and began walking. “What the heck do I do now,” I wondered as I made my way down the city streets. I figured I’d look for the county sheriff, but he wasn’t in site.
I continued walking until I found a park full of bums. The sign read, Linkin Park. “Idiots,” I thought. “Linkin is spelled L-I-N-C-O-L-N.” I sat down on the only empty bench I could find and took a nap on my duffle bag. I woke up the next morning on the ground. My bag was gone, my boots were gone, and even the bench was gone. Through tears, I could see a fountain a block away. I rushed to it and was shocked when I saw my reflection. My face and arms were covered with dry blood, I had a black eye, and my hair looked like a haystack. I tried to clean myself up with the water from he fountain, but it stung way too much.
Slumping down, I began to cry and reminisce. If I had gotten lost, banged and bruised back home, my momma would have had a search-and-rescue team out to find me. Then she’d welcome me home with a big hug, a glass of sweet tea, and a warm bath. She’d bandage my wounds and give me a kiss on the forehead as she lectured me and told me she loved me.
I opened my eyes and saw a girl, about four-years-old, next to me. She looked up at me with big brown eyes and asked if I had a home. “I used to,” I said. “Where is it?” the little girl asked. Normally, I wouldn’t share my problems with a child, but I was desperate. “I live thousands of miles away in a place where people treat everyone like family. We don’t carry shotguns; we have riffles and shoot animals, not humans. I come from a place where you can actually see the sunrise and sunset. Nobody drives cars; we have trucks and tractors.” I began. The little girl was in awe. “Wow!” she said. “What else is home like? Tell me more!” I told her about mudding in the fields and milking cows. I showed her the secret handshake my friends do. At that, the little girl began to cry. “I want to teach my friends” she said. I asked her why she was crying. “I don’t know where my friends are” she said. “Mommy and me were playing in the sandbox yesterday and she didn’t take me home with her.” “Why not?” I asked. “I wanna go home! I wanna go home!” said the little girl.
I noticed the little girl had a little wallet in her pocket. I asked to see it and found a piece of paper with an address. “Is this home?” I asked. The little girl nodded. “Do you know how to get there?” I inquired. The girl pointed. A block later, a woman came rushing toward us, tears in her eyes and a big smile. “My baby!” she whispered. “Thank you! How can I thank you?” I told her my story and, well, let’s just say she took care of things. I called momma, who sent daddy to pick me up.