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____________________ 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚 9th of June, 2023 ———————————————
THE BUS IS LONESOME and gruelling as the sun beats down to crown the top of my head, the one part of my body that isn't covered behind the seat ahead of me. I see only wasteland out the window, dust, sand, dry grass, and old run down mill farms that couldn't have been touched by anyone in this century. This was Oklahoma.
I'd been here only one time, when I was smaller, when my dad first moved out here. I don't think I've ever been back - maybe because if I was to venture through here later on, I'd have certainly remembered the foul smell of the bus seats and the beige film that had been rolled haphazardly over the windows. I'd remember how much I hated it.
I was by myself, trying my hardest to involve myself in my school work, but the homesickness seemed to jolt at me with every pothole or bump we went over. The thought of really living here had been taxing enough before hand, but now I was here, I was really in it.
My grandparents had looked after me my whole life, and so I took their last name in return. They raised me like I was their own, after my father moved away, and shortly after, my mother had passed on. They had split when I was two years old, and she had died when I was three. I was grateful enough for the life I had - I didn't quite have parents, but they were good enough for me. I loved them.
Then, letters came in from my dad, saying he was finished his scientific research and that he'd be able to settle in somewhere, and have me visit. He'd been trying to send me letters my whole life, but I never ended up replying to them. How could I?
He told me he had a job at a local high school, and that I'd like it there. He was wrong. As I'm predicting.
"Second last stop, Summerville, Oklahoma." The driver shouts over the dusty coach seats, looking right at me as I'm the only passenger. One thing I know about Summerville, is that there is no service, no connection, and so when I step off the beaming bus I unfold my comically small map from my pocket and begin on towards where I think my dad's house is.
I've already packed myself my grandmothers Walkman and a few mixtapes to get me through the power shortages, and that should do, because as long as I have some music, I know I'll be okay. However, when I started to turn bends and pass buildings, I began to get weary that this might not be so true anymore. Summerville is an empty, barren place, with exactly two bars and three shops - one, an industrial sized supermarket. All cars I can see are beaten or rusted, abandoned by the side of the road or dumped in places they shouldn't be. It makes me physically cringe when I see it, because you could tell most of these cars might've been beautiful once.
The sun starts to set over the horizon, casting Summerville in a feathery orange light; making it seem a little more bearable than it had ten minutes ago. Still, that doesn't shift any of my observations, as I know that soon it will get dark, and the three streetlights I see might not even work. I needed to get home quick.
