Wander Lust

Chapter 1

Sometimes I lay in my bed staring out the window at one of the few stars I can make out through the orange glow coming from the streetlight at the end my driveway, and wonder how many people are looking at the same star I am at that moment. Are they making wishes? Does it twinkle for them as it does for me? Does it look the same? And then I wonder if I'm looking at the birth or death of a faraway ball of energy. Am I witnessing the past demolition of a long away planet? Or am I watching the past miraculous birth?

If I stare at it hard enough, I swear it glows blue or red and I immediately begin conceptualizing the possibility of aliens. That little burning ball floating in my sky keeps me wondering, keeps me hopeful that the human race hasn't gotten their infectious, venomous hands on every remotely good thing in this universe. It seems as though we destroy all that we touch; like our fingers are flames of a fire that constantly reach out for objects unknowingly, unaware of the inevitable destruction that is to come once contact is made.

We as a race are naïve like a young child that sticks his thumb in an electric socket to see what happens and cries about the shock later. We don't learn from our mistakes and repeat history just as that same child wakes up the next morning only to reinsert his thumb hoping for a better outcome. The only difference between that child and us is that he grows up; whereas, we stay the same, as though we are stuck in a time loop of infancy that is doomed to fail every time it begins.

But that star. That single star shining through my window is a sign of hope. Hope for me to be able to leave this town, to get out of Bumfuck, Nowhere. Clinton isn't that bad but, admittedly, it isn't that good either. With a population of 2,015 people it sits in the middle of the country. Clinton, Kansas is where I call home. Nothing very exciting happens here. Ever. I can hardly wait to graduate and leave. New York. San Francisco. Uruguay. Egypt. Berlin. The wanderlust bug bit me my freshman year and it bit me hard. My room is cluttered with postcards, posters, maps, and books depicting places all over the world. The day after I graduate I'm leaving. I'll defer college for a year and go on a Europe backpacking trip.

I've been saving money since that glorious little bug bit me and I haven't spent a dime of it. It's all in a jar in my room that's overflowing with past tips and paychecks. The day I'm given my diploma I am going to take that jar straight to the bank and deposit every last cent before driving to the airport and buying the first plane ticket out of here. Anywhere, I'll go anywhere and everywhere. I stay up late most nights envisioning the world. I talk about traveling so much that my mom can name the capital of almost every country in Europe and Asia in alphabetical order. My younger sister is sort of a Debbie downer when it comes to what I want to do in the future.

She says that she's the 'realist' in the family and is the only one that realizes I'm not going anywhere. "You're going to get sucked in, on your way out the door and won't be able to take that final step onto the plane," she tells me every other day. I almost want to leave just to prove her wrong. Just to be able to say 'ha ha'. She'll probably shit a brick when I follow through with my plan. Maybe she'll follow in my footsteps. She's only two years behind me and quite the sharp tack. I bet if she started saving now, that by the time she graduated she'd have enough to buy a ticket to wherever it is I am.

Wouldn't that just be something? I'd probably be the one shitting a brick if she ever even thought of doing that. It would be fun to have a partner in crime, though, and Cindy's fun when she loosens up. I'll have to ask in the morning. I wish she'd consider it.

Newt still won't give me a straight answer. Every time I bring up the big senior trip he changes the topic of conversation. I asked him to come with me when I first thought of the idea freshman year and all he did was look at me like I was crazy. "Wait a minute. Do you mean that you wanna leave Clinton? Like, wanna leave Kansas?" he asked me as we sat in the school garden eating lunch. "Yeah! Imagine all that's out there, Newt. So much to see and do. Clinton is just too small. It's not enough and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get out of here," I replied determined before taking another bite of my sandwich.