I Don't Know

The truck driver stopped his rig and gestured to me to get in. This was a lucky break; trucks didn't often come by here, and if they did, they were in a hurry to get Somewhere Else. But, this truck driver must have taken pity on me. I looked as bedraggled and sorry as the rain could make me look.



We said our preliminary introductions as I wrung the water out of my hair, and he pulled back out into traffic. Soon he settled into the easy, mile-upon-mile speed that the truck liked, and turned to look at me.



"So, where ya goin'?"



"I don't know. I'm just going."



He chuckled a little at that, and said, "I've been there, kid. I've been there. I used to hitchhike all over, back in the day, but now I've got a business to run. I guess when I saw you standing there in the rain, you reminded me of myself at that age. You're too old to be runnin' away from home ... you running away from your husband? your job? you runnin' from the law?"



I laughed with him, and said, "Nah, none of that. I'm just trying to find out who I am, and I figured that if I circle around enough times, maybe I'll run into something familiar."



"Well, I hope so," he said. "I hope you don't hit it too hard when you find it. 'Cause running like that can get you hurt pretty bad. I don't know, maybe you'll get an easy landing, but you're trying like hell, and I admire that."



I just smiled at him. He had no idea what I was running from, how scared I was, how desperately André wanted to find me and take what was in my mind. But for now, I was warm, and safe; and I had a truck driver to talk to and he had stories to share with me. Je ne sais pas, I thought; I didn't know all that would befall me on my escape ... but I had a good start.