Nomad girl

By Nomad girl

For nomad girl

 

There is a girl in the world named Kayla, and I don’t know where she is off to now. If I had 10 guesses I don’t know I’d get within 100 miles. She was right with the wind, hopscotching her way across the pavement. She couldn’t stand to be in the same place for more than a week at a time. She denied herself any comfort or rest, she had to be moving on and moving on and moving on.

Maybe she was in San Francisco where she’s from. Maybe she found herself on a farm in Kansas, she could be married to a ranch hand by now. Likely she’s somewhere “en route”.

A few people have caught a glimpse of her, she is like a little bug flying across your peripheral. Maybe you could focus on her for a second, but before you know it she’s gone, and you’re squinting to the distance for the little spec. I caught her in a jar only for a second. We both pressed our faces against the glass. I must have looked like a giant. Because I know she looked miniature. Catch and release, catch and release, catch and release.

The last time I saw her was in Houston. We by chance were there at the same time, and reconnected. For one day and one night. In the morning we got coffee, I asked her, where to next? Told her we had an extra seat in the van, if she was headed east we could take her a while. She smiled. Shrugged and laughed a bit, almost at her self. She had no idea “where to next” and I should have know better than to even ask. “Maybe Mexico” she said, as if she was trying to get out of dodge. I watched her walk away down the street, big backpack and baggy cargo pants. Until she became just a little spec in the distance. I knew I would see her again at some point. The uncertainty of where and when gave me a great comfort. Be safe Nomad girl!

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