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What is the proper way to live one’s life? Is it to live it in such a way that when you’re dead and buried people will stand around mourning your demise and talking about all the wonderful this and that’s that you accomplished while on this earth? Or is there something more to this “great adventure” that we call living.

These are the questions that plagued the overly tired mind of Jocelyn Lynn Meriwether as she sat in her seat by the window and watched as the countryside passed by in a blur. The whirring of the train as it sped down the tracks lulled her mind in to a comfortable numbness that kept her just at the edge of the sleep that she so desperately needed. But Jocelyn didn’t sleep. Jocelyn never slept….

The glowing display of her cell phone read 9:45 PM.  She reached down under the seat to retrieve her black leather purse, fumbling around inside for a full minute before finding what she was looking for. The contents of the brown prescription bottle rattled around like so many marbles as she shook two yellow pills into her hand. Twisting the cap back on the bottle she tossed it into her purse and reached for the glass of water left over from her dinner. She swallowed the pills, adjusted her travel pillow in an effort to get comfortable, and closed her eyes.

Her mind began to wander as she waited for the precious sleep that only the pills could bring. When she left the train station this morning she had been so sure that she was doing the right thing. So sure that walking away from everyone and everything she had ever known was the only choice she could make under the circumstances. There really was no other choice. Remaining in her old life would only bring heartbreak and quite possibly danger to herself and to anyone she cared for.

Jocelyn felt the goose bumps rise on her flesh as she went over that morning for possibly the millionth. It had started off like every other day before it. She awoke this morning to the sound of her alarm clock blaring out an old Willie Nelson tune. She could hear the rain drops pelting her bedroom window and the song seemed somehow appropriate. ” Now if only my eyes were blue we’d be on to something here!” She thought to herself wryly.

She pulled herself out of bed and stretched in an effort to loosen up her stiff limbs. She always felt stiff and groggy after taking the sleep aid prescribed to her by Dr. Wilkins. Dr. Jeremiah Wilkins was the first person she met after coming to Riverside almost eight years ago, and the term met could only be used loosely. Dr. Wilkins was the only physician on duty the night she was brought in to the Riverside Emergency Department unconscious.

She had awoken on a narrow stretcher bed that might as well have been a piece of plywood for all the comfort it offered. That was the first thing she noticed. The second was the massive headache that seemed to pulsate with each breath she took. It felt like she had played chicken with semi and lost to be quite honest about it. She had no idea where she was, what day it was, or who she was for that matter.

A tall white haired man wearing a white lab coat was standing over her. He looked to be in his late fifty’s or maybe early sixty’s at the most. He snow white hair and a full white bead that made him look like a tall skinny Santa Claus. What struck her the most were his eyes. He had the kindest dark blue eyes that she had ever seen, and she felt right away that here was someone she could trust. She didn’t know why, but that seemed awfully important to her at the time.

Dr. Wilkins reassured her that, although she had a pretty nasty concussion, she would survive.  He was sure that her memory would return in time. That was 8 long years ago, and that stubborn memory stayed locked up tight in her head. They had tried their best to determine her identity. Ads were run in the local paper. Police missing person’s reports were searched. They even ran her fingerprints in hopes that something would turn up.

All their efforts had turned up were a great big pile of nothing. No one had any idea who the pretty girl with the red hair was or where she had come from. She had been found lying on the ground level of the hospital parking garage by a security patrol officer making his rounds.The medical personnel had searched her pockets for identification but came up empty handed.

As the days went by Jocelyn grew stronger and soon the time came for her to leave the hospital. News of her plight had spread throughout the town and the townspeople, true to Southern Hospitality, were determined to help her in any way they could. She was offered a part time job in the local bakery, and another kind citizen just happened to have a garage apartment that he was willing to rent dirt cheap with her first month being free in exchange for helping out in her new landlords’ real estate office for a few weeks while his secretary was on maternity leave.

Life began to take on a comfortable routine for Jocelyn. She worked mornings in the bakery, a job she came to love dearly, and spent her afternoons splitting her time between the office and helping out at the library in the historical section. She realized that she had a love for history, but figured that it was a natural effect of having no history of her own. Jocelyn felt at home in this small town. The people here had embraced her with big smiles and wide open arms, and she embraced them right back. And then the letter appeared….

She had noticed the small blue envelope lying in front of her door when she left for work this morning. She picked it up and flipped it over to the front of the envelope which proved to be blank. “That’s weird” she thought to herself. She tore open the envelope and shook out the folded pink stationary. The words she read filled her veins with ice. Her hands began to shake and tears filled her eyes. In that moment all she could think of was running. Running as fast and as far as she could. Shaking, she read again the short sentence written on the page in flowery script. You’ve been found.

Feeling as though every ounce of strength had just drained out of her body, Jocelyn grabbed the white wooden hand rail with icy cold hands. There was a buzzing sound in her ears and black spots appeared before her eyes as she struggled to regain control of her breathing. She glanced down the flight of wooden stairs as she willed her fingers to grip the railing.

“I’m going to pass out!” she thought to herself. “I’m going to faint and fall down the stairs and break my neck!”

Struggling to remain calm she slid to her knees, put her head down, and waited there was an overwhelming sense of urgency within her that told her she had to leave this very minute!

She hurriedly packed a bag with essentials, a change of clothing, and her makeup case. Grabbing the stash of emergency money from the coffee can she kept on top of the refrigerator she shoved it into her purse, and then hurried out of the apartment and down the stairs. She jumped in her little car and screeched out of the driveway. She never looked back…

If she had she would have seen the dark sedan that pulled out on the street seconds after she did. She would have seen the car following at a safe distance behind her. She would have seen a man and a woman get out of the car and follow her once she reached the train station. Unfortunately she saw none of this.

She’d driven to the train station and bought a ticket for the first train out of town. She had no idea where she was going and didn’t really care, as long as it was far away from here. Waiting for her train to be announced she browsed through the magazines and to stay calm.

Now, flying down the tracks into the darkness, she wasn’t so sure…. Jocelyn had never known that sense of safety and security that most people take for granted. To be quite honest, she’d never known much of anything during her life. Not unless you counted fear, uncertainty, and a sense of not belonging in her own skin. Fear of what tomorrow may or may not bring. Uncertainty of who she was and how she fit into the grand scheme of things. Never quite belonging to anyone or anything…not even herself.

Most people took their memories for granted. Memories of childhood, first kisses, family gatherings, weddings, births, and even funerals were everyday fair for most of the common horde. Not so for Jocelyn. All Jocelyn had were a few hazy dream like scenes that hovered around the edges of the nightly drug induced coma that substituted for sleep. Blurry images of a woman’s smile and a bright red balloon mixed with sounds of crying, and a sense of great loss. These were the lingering echo’s of her past that played themselves over and over each night like so many repeating chords on a broken record player.

These were the memories that Jocelyn carried with her. She had no idea what they meant. She had no one to ask. She was as alone in the world as one could be. Turning her head and glancing out of the small window she caught site of her old friend the moon. Many sleepless nights had been spent talking to this faithful companion. The bright glow illuminated the fields as they barreled past.

In the distance she spied an old dilapidated building that served as a rural train station. If she didn’t know better she would think it was just another deserted building, no different than the many others that dotted the countryside. However, she knew from her itinerary that a stop was scheduled in a small town called Wellsboro.

She could feel the train slowing as it neared the station. The pills were starting to take effect and her eyelids were beginning to droop heavily. She could just make out a lone figure standing on the station platform. He was tall, that much she could discern in the dim moon glow, and he had something swung over his shoulder. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes in a effort to stay awake, but it was no use. Her head fell heavily against the seat and slid into unconsciousness.