? With each step, I move further away from my past. Like smoke and fog mixed on the water’s surface, it has become difficult to discern my memories from wishful thinking and dreams. As I lay here, unable to sleep due to the cold creeping into my bones, I find myself wondering if the memories that have kept me going are real or if they are even my own?
I know that there were lean and difficult times throughout my life, I’m sure of it. However, my memories occasionally are filtered through what I can only describe as a hellishly Rockwellian lense.
Maybe I watched too much Leave it to Beaver with dad growing up? Maybe being alone for so long has begun to eat away at my sanity? Or maybe the wild turkey that I just finished the last scraps of was easy to catch for a reason?
Whatever it is I feel like electricity is coursing through me, I can’t sleep. I guess that I’ll get up and keep walking.
2
