Back in Indiana, I used to turn when the sign said Evergreen and I followed that road home.
The first place I bought but never belonged.
Where both my kids took their first steps.
Somehow, a day turned into a decade.
And on another, a marriage turned into a prison.
So many memories to escape.
No reward for good behavior.
No relief for time served.
The cell of my mind was decorated with the pictures of the moments I wanted to last
while I began planning my escape by running away from that house, back in Indiana,
that never felt like home.
One time I flew into Spokane;
I passed Indiana and turned onto Evergreen and I followed directions that led me back to you.
The first time a person felt like home.
Where I was free to be me and you only pretended you were you.
Where I would bring you lunch and a waterfall stood watch waiting for it all to change.
As a little girl, in Indiana, I’d stand among the Evergreen.
A mini forest planted by my grandma from pine cones she brought back from California.
Today nothing remains of the Evergreen once planted there.
The echos of memories decades long gone are all that remain of evergreen not native to where they were planted.
A forest that only pretended to belong there with me.
To me you became my Evergreen.
Sometimes I called you home.
A place I never belonged.
Other times a place I felt safe and secure.
But like that mini forest my grandma planted you weren’t meant to remain standing beside me.
He was obviously Indiana.
All he gave me was a million reasons to leave.
Eventually I found my own home in Idaho.
Out my bedroom window a single Blue Spruce stands guard and the view of a mountain in the distance reminds me that some things look good all on their own.
No more running.
No one to flee.
Untethered to Indiana.
Abandoned by the transplanted Evergreen.
Thanks to Evergreen and Indiana, I found the road back to me and home.
