Day 19, The Dog Day

Snickering like a madwoman, I am flying down a hill and can’t quite believe it. What all signs are pointing to. I feel like I’ve gotten away with the crime of the century. That my little hand has reached up onto Nan’s cooling rack, swiped a scone, and safely made it to my hidy-hole out the back shed to eat it without her catching me. The open farmland and rolling hills hold their hands to mouths and whisper: “They’re behind you. They’re behind you.” Mountains. Berea, as it turns out, is considered the gateway to the Appalachians. Gateway. Gate through …

Day 17, The Stand & Deliver Day

Jerked awake by the pitiful, alarmed cry of my phone in the living room, I stumble out of my baby bear bed and into the darkness of the B&B. Breakfasts are made, bags are packed, SPOT trackers are urged to wipe the crust from their eyes and make contact with a satellite. Or two. I wander out on to the porch and peer out into the darkness. A pre-dawn light is there, refracting off the deep mist. This is gonna be a foglight escape. Taking a contemplative chew of a peanut butter sandwich, I begin to track all the gear …