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.