Some people would find that not having a family was hard, something they couldn’t deal with. I don’t have a family to call my own but does that make me strong? I don’t think so. My mother would have disagreed with me if in fact she was still alive. She was all I had and she’s gone now. I don’t suppose the pain of losing my mother will ever subside and I really think that’s what brought me to where I am today, in a small bus stop in a tiny no name town outside of Seattle Washington.

I’ve been traveling in no certain direction for a few years now. After my mother’s funeral, I packed what little I had in an old green army bag and bought a bus ticket to the first stop on the list. There were no friends to say goodbye to, no one to wave longingly at me from the terminal as the bus pulled away. Don’t be fooled. I wasn’t lonely. At least, I didn’t think I was. Seeing the country at my own pace turned out to be the best decision I’ve ever made on my own.

I stared at my reflection in a small cracked mirror. The bathroom had served me well, not one person had come in while I was freshening up. My skin wasn’t as pale as usual yet I could still see the dark circles haunting me, teasing me. Sleeping in a bed was something I needed to do and wanted to do; benches and bus seats were not made for restful sleep. I sighed and started to apply my black eyeliner, it was almost gone.

Washington was turning out to be my favorite stop yet. It was cool but tolerable and definitely mysterious enough for my nature. The moss on the trees, the dark corners of forest so thick I doubt I would ever come out if I went in. My boots scraped the loose stones along the side of the road as I walked, thinking.

The hum of an engine manifested from behind me, probably taking the corner at an unreasonable speed. For a split second I debated on moving from the road but the car flew past me before I could complete the thought. My skirt blew upwards along with my hair as the trailing wind passed by.