If I remember correctly, and I usually do, it was three years ago today that I hopped in my car and started driving to California. At this moment, I was asleep in a Red Roof Inn in Joliet, IL, after having been turned down by a Motel 6 because I was under 21. I was so excited, for the whole trip, but especially on that first day. Only 8 hours on the road and I’d already been through two states I’d never seen before and a third I hadn’t visited since I was too young to remember.
Lying in that motel room I felt two dreams within my immediate grasp. I was driving cross-country, by myself, everything I owned in my car, as I had imagined I would since long before I could even drive. I was going to wake up in a town I’d never seen, in a world that had never seen me. I was going to drive, and at some point, I was going to arrive at the door of my second dream and I was going to create a new life.
But this night, three years ago — this was the beginning.