Wide Open Spaces

I don’t understand what it is in this life that makes some people content to stay in one place their whole life, and others to roam like gypsies.  I’ve always been one of those gypsy types.  At least, at heart I have been.  I grew up in the same house, on the same street with the same neighbors, in the same small town my whole life.  Life was pretty sweet, but it was just never quite good enough.  My mother tells me I have an independent spirit.  I’ve never figured out whether or not she meant that as a good thing.
           One of my favorite memories comes from when I was a very small girl.  I’ve been an avid reader from the time I could even make out words. For Christmas I once got a set of the “Little House on the Prairie” books.  Great joke, I thought to myself at the time.  But at some point after they had collected much dust, my dad took it upon himself to read them to my litter sister and me.  She would never sit still long enough to get through an entire chapter but the stories held me spellbound; especially the ones of Laura and her family traveling through the wild prairie.  I wanted to be like that, following the prairie and the setting sun to places unknown.  Fantasy books took over my imagination and attention for the same reason.  It was the only way to fill my deepest longings for adventure.
         The sight of a winding canyon or a small trail through the trees would invoke a deep yearning to see where they went.  No one really understood me except my little sister Syrah.  Well, maybe she didn’t understand me either, but she always stood by me. She’s really the reason I never felt completely alone.  We looked so much alike she could have been my clone, except that she was a good three inches shorter than I and the complete prom queen.  But I owe my sanity to her and probably my life too. 
My gypsy heart expressed its self in any way it could while I was growing up.  I was wearing earth tones, bright bandannas, and long flowing clothing long before it became “cool.”  My fiery red hair hung in long spirals to my skinny waist.  No one ever took me to prom, and I don’t blame them.  We’re all afraid of what we don’t understand.
Needless to say when graduation came, I was eager to leave home.  I never felt like I was running away, but the wind was whispering my name and I had to heed the call.  Looking back, the memories are as vivid as yesterday.

__________

         “Momma, don’t cry.”  I give her another hug as we stand next to the big Greyhound bus.  Dad is tearing up too; I’ve never seen him cry before in my life.  I brush a lock of my half pulled-back hair out of my freckled face and pull away from mom’s embrace.  She reluctantly releases me, grabbing a tissue from her purse.  Syrah looks like she might start crying too, but I know she won’t.  Our long talks in the middle of the night have managed to make her the one person who supports me in my decision to leave home.  There’s an acting academy based out of New York and I’ve gotten myself a full ride scholarship.  The best students actually get to tour the U.S. putting on full productions and acting in front of thousands of people.  It may not have been heading west, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up.  I was following the wind, following all those trails that had beginnings and no ends.  Someone said to me once “Tisa, you have no idea what you are getting yourself into.” 
“Yes I do,” I replied.  I just had no idea where it would take me.
         The mountains of my Montana home flew by as the Greyhound droned on in harmony with the snores of the fat old man sitting next to me.  The whole machine reeked.  I had a feeling someone on the previous ride hadn’t been able to hold their lunch down.  The smell made me wonder if I’d be able to hold down my own.
         At the next stop the harmonious snorer got off.  I restrained the urge to applaud when he did.  I stared out the window as we pulled away.  The scenery hadn’t changed in a while. All Pennsylvania is the same.
         I’m not sure what it was that drew my gaze to the other side of the aisle.  I hadn’t paid much attention to the other passengers at all.  I looked and saw something I had never seen before but recognized instantly.          
         There were times when my desire to roam would take advantage of me.  I would go into a daze, staring intently at whatever object my eyes had last landed on.  Syrah once asked me where I went when I did that.  I never really knew.  Just somewhere far away.
And he had that same look.  I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me or out my window.  If he was focused outside, he wasn’t watching the scenery, and if he was looking at me, he was definitely the first to ever do so.
         For a moment I just watched him, wondering what he was thinking about and how long he had been looking over.  I tried to ignore him and went back to my mindless gazing for a while, until once again, my eyes were drawn across the aisle.  He was still staring and it made me nervous.  I stared back wondering how long it would be until he realized what was happening. 
Apparently it was going to take longer than I had anticipated.  I wondered if he was playing some kind of stare-down game.  He seemed one of those types who were the class clown, prom king, and girl-getting jock all rolled into one.  Maybe he was a movie star that I didn’t know about (there were a lot of those since I’d rather read than watch movies any day).  Who did this guy think he was?
         A moment was all I had before he snapped out of it.  His brown-green eyes looked puzzled at first.  I guess he was one of those people who are pretty comfortable in their own skin because he promptly began to laugh.  “Sorry about that.” I’m not one of those easy people.  I can talk myself up pretty tough and confident, but really on the inside, I’m pretty timid and shy. This probably is the reason why I proceeded to blush.  You’d think as an actress I’d be able to control that.
         Instantly I felt bad for thinking something so mean.  He came to his senses and actually looked into my eyes instead of through them.  I saw something in them that hit me deep in my soul.  In a heartbeat, it was as if he had read my whole life’s story.  He held my gaze for what seemed like forever and I was almost sure we were having a conversation that no one else could hear but us.  I didn’t look away, but forced myself to hold his gaze.  I would not be the one to back down; I could be tough too.  He looked away, turning red as he cleared his throat.
         I hesitated.  The seat next to him was unoccupied so I slid next to him, my green flowered dress getting caught on the armrest on the way.  This guy looked surprised and a bit awkward.  Maybe he wasn’t as sure of himself as I had thought.
         I paused for a moment trying to gain the courage to say what was on my mind.  “Where did you go just now?”
         He seemed shocked.  So was I.  Where did I get the nerve to talk to a complete stranger, much less say something so personal?  For a moment we both sat there in silence staring at each other.  Please don’t look at me like that, I thought to myself, secretly hoping he would never stop and chiding myself at the same time that I would let my girly emotions get the better of me.
         “I don’t know.” He said after a moment.  “Someplace far away I guess.”  There was nothing I could do about the shock on my face.  I simply moved back to my own seat and put my headphones on, wanting to escape from this stranger that seemed to know me even though I had never met him before in my life.  Enya sang sweet and melancholy tunes in my head while I tried to pretend like I was sleeping. At one point I stole a glance back over at my strange companion to see if he was looking at me again. This time, he was alternating between looking out his own window and writing something in a beat up notebook.
When we stopped, I gathered all my things as quickly as I could.  The strange guy was still on the bus and I couldn’t handle the thought of seeing him anymore.  Maybe he wasn’t getting off here anyway.  That would be refreshing.
         Blast!  Why did I have to be so unlucky?  As I stood at the Greyhound station in New York City with my two tons of luggage wondering the best way to get to the academy and hoping I wasn’t going to get mugged, he came waltzing up to me with a big smile on his face.  I tried hailing a taxi, but they all passed by me as if I wasn’t there. 
         “Hey!” he called out.  I turned, trying to look miffed.  “I was hoping to catch you before you left.  I just had to ask you something.”  Great, I thought.  What could it be? 
         “Why did you ask me that?”  His question was genuine.  Maybe he wasn’t the dense stupid jock type I first took him for.  “You know, you are the only person who has ever caught me going there.”
         I thought for a moment, wondering myself why I asked.  “I guess because I go there too.  No one has ever understood me.  It’s my escape.”  He looked as if I had spoken feelings he had never been able to put into words.
         “Here,” he handed me a folded piece of ripped notebook paper.  “I thought you would appreciate this.”  I took it from him timidly and smiled.  Nice guy, my mind told me without my permission.  I told it to shut up.  He took his own luggage and headed for the subway.  I figured I would never see him again.
         I opened the paper.  It was a poem about where he went.  It talked of golden fields, steep mountains and saving the damsel at the top of the tower.  Every word hit home to my heart and I knew for the first time in my life that I was not alone.
__________

         I made it to the academy without much trouble at all.  When auditions for tour came around, I really didn’t think I would make it.  I wanted it more than I had wanted anything in my whole life.  It was going to be hard, but I had nothing else to lose.  This was the whole reason I had come to New York in the first place. 
         I memorized, rehearsed, and wrote character sketches until I was blue in the face.  Auditions came and went and classes resumed as normal.  Eventually the day arrived and I took the longest walk of my life to the bulletin board to receive the news.
         There were no emotions left in me by the time I woke up the next morning.  Packing had to be finished by the end of the week so that we could move to where rehearsals would be held across the other side of the city.  I ended up putting packing off until the night before.  No biggie.
         On the bus, my excitement rose.  Those trails and paths called with the wind and again, I was heeding the call.  I found a seat in the back where I felt I would be undisturbed and looked out the window.
         “Hi.”  Instinctively I knew the oddly familiar voice was speaking to me.  I looked up only to see my friend from the Greyhound.  He plopped his smiling face right next to me without any permission at all, but I didn’t care.
         “I liked your poem.”  Sorry attempt at conversation I know, but I felt as if I had to let him know how it had made me feel.  The whole story came out in a flurry of word vomit.  At the end of it all, I looked at him wondering what he thought.  He just smiled and looked at me with those green-brown eyes that had once turned my whole insides to mush.
         “Wow.  You understand me better than anyone I’ve ever known and I don’t even know your name.”
         “Tisa Joy Charley.” I held out my hand and hesitated.
         “Joshua Harper.” His grip was strong but gentle.  “Don’t take me for someone who usually likes to take things too fast, but want to go out sometime?  I’d love to get to know you better.”  Sure.  You can be my new best friend.
         I’m reminded of a song I heard once by the Dixie Chicks.  It’s like my whole life summed up in a few short words.
                                                                      “She needs, wide open spaces,
                                                                        Room to make a big mistake,
                                                                            She needs, new faces,
                                                                      She knows the highest stakes.”
         Maybe this is my big mistake, but this time, my roaming heart has room to make it and I have to smile at what the future holds.