I found a seventy-dollar hotel room for the night, cleaned up and ate my first healthy

meal in almost three weeks. I looked for a drugstore and found more dye, I also bought

more gel, I was beginning to like the spiked effect, and I found a product to bleach the

tips of my hair. The next morning, I took an eight-hour bus ride to a city on the border in

Ontario. I had no problems getting across the border and getting my sector pass renewed,

the guy at the crossing was practically waving everybody through. When I crossed the

border, I was in Minnesota, and once again, I didn't really see a difference between this

town and the one I had just left. I didn't have time to compare cities, so I figured where I

was, and started walking west.





It was rainy most of my two-week hike through Minnesota, rainy and miserable. I didn't

want to find a hotel, but I had to dry out. I had a few problems at sector points, as well. I

planned on only staying a day away from Canada, just in case, but ended up going further

down. I was so far south in Minnesota that when I crossed state borders, I ended up in,

according to my map, South Dakota. I knew that North and South Dakota had become

one at about the same time Texas separated, but my map was so old, it still showed the

border. Sitting in my tent with only a flashlight to see, I checked my map. If I traveled

wisely, I only had three more states to cross before I got to Washington, and I had to

cross it to get to Seattle. I estimated six weeks to get to Washington State. Two in

Dakota, three to cross Montana, and one more to cross the northern part of Idaho. I put

my map away and dug out a picture mom had put in the envelope with the letter I had

found. It was one taken last March Break. It had been sunny and warm for once, and

mom had gotten the entire week off work. We had gone with our neighbor and her kids to

the province's capital for the day, and our neighbor had snapped it in front of a statue in

one of the parks. Mom had taken an identical one of them, and one of all of us kids. I

brought the picture to help with my search; mom can't have changed that much in ten

years. Except for the wheelchair. I have vague memories of her walking, but I'm not sure

if they are actual memories, or just a dream I had. I miss mom and Patrick. I miss home. I

even miss school. It's been so long, school is probably out by now. As much as I wanted

to go home, I knew I had to go on, so I put the picture back in my pack, lay down and

went to sleep.

~~