Once Upon A Road Trip

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Prologue

May 14th,

Free Spirit. Wanderlust. Soul searching. ...I like to think of this as more of a pre-life crisis. What else could compel a "normal" eighteen-year-old girl from a semi-functional family in a small, Minnesota college town to get into her car and drive around the country for two months? Regardless of how bizarre that sounds, this isn't some impulsive whim. I've been planning this little venture for nearly six months now; contrary to all sound advice.  

It's my first day of owning this journal. Not that I've ever cared much for journals or diaries, but I thought it might be wise to keep a record. Although, wisdom isn't something anyone I know would equate with this little road trip I've got planned. I'm wary of it myself, but I also know it's something I need to get out of my system. I'm not driving over 6,000 miles just to sightsee and meet people. While that's part of it, I see this as a huge personal growth opportunity for me. Hopefully, I'll be using this journal to keep track of said growth. 

This will be my "Walkabout," to borrow the Australian term. Just another step in the process of me finding myself, and figuring out what I'm here for. I've been putting a lot of thought and prayer into my preparations. While part of me is afraid to go off and do all of this alone, that only confirms in my mind that it needs to be done. I don't like the idea of being afraid of anything. And so, I'm trying an approach I've come up with recently. If something scares me I'm going to charge straight into it until, a) I become so used to it that I no longer fear it, or, b) I end up unconscious. Okay, so this plan might need some tweaking. It's more of a work in progress. Just like me. 

Mom has been on edge ever since she realized how serious I am about doing this. I can't blame her for caring, but I wish she wouldn't worry. She was the one who pointed out that I was up and running at eight months old, and my very first word was "Bye-bye." Not "Ma-ma." Not "Da-da"... "Bye-bye." If that's not a sign, I don't know what is.  

Of course, my second word was "donut." So maybe I'm reading too much into that...

~Ang 

Chapter 1

Angie smoothed her slick palms down the seams of her scarlet graduation gown. Though dusk was falling, the loss of sunlight only took the barest edge off the early June humidity. Around her pressed hundreds of her classmates, all filed into rows in front of a portable stage that had been erected on one side of her high school football field. While she'd already endured the stifling situation for nearly an hour, the anticipation of having her name called threatened to drive her to the brink of nausea.  

She distracted herself by rehearsing her steps in her mind. It was a necessity for someone who had difficulty navigating perfectly flat terrain, never mind the three steps up onto a rickety snap-together stage. For better or worse, it would all be over soon.  

"Please God, don't let me fall," Angie prayed under her breath. Finally hearing her full name, Angeli, called out, she began her trek. Her anxiety peaked as the rubber of her squared heels caught along the grass, reminding her again of the Senior Prom debacle.  

She'd worn these same ill-fated shoes that night. Having no success at finding a date, she'd decided to go stag along with her Somali friend, Millune. Denying her tomboy sensibilities for once, she'd spent hours in preparation for the evening - going to the trouble of coercing her long brown hair into holding curls, donning a shimmering floor-length gown, and even plunging into the foreign territory of wearing makeup. Turning prom into a girls' night out hadn't seemed like such a bad idea, up until the Grand March announcer stumbled over Millune's name and mistakenly introduced the friends as a couple.