“Ok so it wasn’t my best landing” Rjosk glared at her. “Ok so maybe it was one of my worst landings. But not THE worst. Did I ever tell you about the time on Mwoltif-6 that I brought the ship down right on a Mwolt-cow? The farmer comes running over the hill, raving mad, waving his feelers, turning purple. Hahaha!” Rjosk was not laughing. “It’s supposed to blend in. I don’t know if you read the chapter on Terran architecture, but they don’t usually put HOUSES on TOP of other BUILDINGS!” “You really think anyone will notice?” Flonawids asked, looking around. Fortunately there didn’t seem to be any hominids around. “Yes I think they will notice a small farm house perched precariously on top of an industrial building. We need to move it. Come down in a field somewhere secluded. Not in a major metropolis.” “This part of the metropolis has the fewest hominid life signs! If we set down way off in a field we would be walking for hours! Plus, you never know when you might land on someone’s cow.” Rjosk had already walked away around the corner of the building. “Hey wait for me!” Flonawids ran after them. Rjosk was scanning the large area between the warehouses with their sphere. “I think we could set it down here and it would be out of sight, IF you can manage such delicate maneuvering?” Flonawids looked around. There were a few old vehicles and some small blue plastic structures in a row. The warehouses appeared abandoned and the space between them was large. “Ok, I’m on it,” she said, starting to activate her translocator cuff when suddenly a creature jumped out of one of the large open bay doors. “Gaaah! I mean, Hel-low fellow Terran! We are simply passing through, have a Nice Day!” Rjosk glared again. It was always glares with that one. You’d think since they were stuck together for a 6-year mission they would try to get along but it was always glares and “did you read the manual” As if on cue Rjosk said, “Flon that isn’t a hominid it’s a racoon. If you had read the chapter on non-hominid mammals common to urban and suburban areas you would know that!” “Right, sorry, just practicing!” Flonawids tapped the commands on her cuff and translocated back to the ship. Setting it down very gently between the warehouses she suppressed the urge to add a bit of flourish to the landing, like her signature spin (which may have been where she went wrong on the initial approach come to think of it) and adjusted the exterior appearance configuration to look like several stacked shipping boxes. Rjosk met her with a slight nod as she exited, which was about all she was likely to get in terms of approval. “Alright, let’s find what we came here for,” they said, and began to walk purposefully towards the glowing lights of the city.

The double panes of the bus door folded open and i stepped up. I thought i would look back. I imagined a wistful glance over my shoulder when i played out the scene over the last weeks. But here i was and there was the driver waiting fo my fare, not even waiting for me to pick my suitcase back up before lurching away from the curb and heading towards the interstate. I stumbled and caught myself while the other passengers pretended not to notice. I found an empty row and hauled my heavy suitcase onto the luggage rack above it, tossing my backpack beside me as I slid into the seat by the window.

Finally, i got a last look at the town I was leaving — not much to see here except a half-deserted strip mall and a Motel 8 hoping to catch tired drivers passing by on the way to somewhere else. Not many stopped and fewer stayed in Red Bluff, California. The fact that I spent the last three years here was a total fluke. The had been happy years, unexpectedly. I followed my then-boyfriend here when he got a placement at the small hospital there. Within 3 months he left me for one of the nurses, but I had a job at a PT office that paid well and nowhere else i needed to be, so I hung around.

Small towns are easy places to make friends. Everybody knows mostly everyone else and they are excited at the prospect of refreshing the stale social scene. I managed to get invited to bars, bonfires, potlucks, even drum circles. I met a new lover and mostly avoided my ex. I got promoted and even managed to show my paintings at a few local coffee shops. It wasn’t the big city artist’s life I dreamed of as a kid, but it was good. I was happy. And now all of that is further away with every mile we drive.

I watched the fields pass by in shades of green and brown, the power lines dipping up and down, reading exit signs and advertisements as they whizzed by. South we sped, me and the other sleepy travelers on to their own joyful reunions or new adventures. Would my reunion with my mother be joyful? I wasn’t sure. She hadn’t exactly asked me to come. My brother was the one who asked and she had grudgingly agreed that she needed me, needed someone, to be there to help during the chemo. I was the obvious choice. My brother’s family and fancy career in New York City couldn’t possibly be uprooted, while I was just messing around in nowheresville. That’s what they all called it. It’s true, it wasn’t the big city, but I had been happy there.