My Confessional

6. Peace Garden State

Watching, something i've done all my life, as an outsider looking into a world that I know my heart won't reside forever. Being taken by the change of scenery, from once a sandy city full of possibility to the land of open fields and meadows, I breath the fresh, crisp air. Fargo, North Dakota, a city of about 110,000 people in 2012 and constantly growing. Forced to take a step down from my urban life, I felt it was a heavily deserved break.

I'm the type of person who can't be contained, always on the go, but the golden fields and bright blue sky seems limitless, like anything could happen at anytime. For what i've seen so far, North Dakota lives up to it's nickname of "peace garden"

I step out of the truck slowly, with nothing but a backpack with my Ipod, games, clothes, and a nervous smile. The cracking of pavement under my feet reminds me of home, the warm sand. On day one, I can't help but feel the pull, something deep inside me begging to fly back to phoenix. A journey back of 1,717 miles, this was nothing because I would walk the world to get back to the life I left behind. Even if it was painful, it was something I knew, something familiar.

"Here's your room sweetie, I'll give you time to unpack before dinner." My grandma Dolly says to me, her calm voice screaming with norwegian hospitality.

Nodding in acknowledgement, I put on some music before crashing onto the futon that was my new bed. All I wanted was to be left alone, the airport being horrid as always. Somethings never change, the uncomfortable plane seats being one of them.

If you're alone you have to feel lonely, no one has ever said this and I'm my case I was, lonely. Destined to be an outsider in a foreign land, destined to spend a lifetime to fit in. My solace and contentment being only in music and getting lost among the stars.

As I stare emptily at the ceiling, the crickets serenade me with one of the gentle melodies of life, too complex for my mind to understand.

"Dinner time." I hear Dolly's voice, picturing her curly brown hair and rounded face.

"Be there in a sec." I reply, my high, prepubescent tone bouncing off the walls as I deliver my stereotypical teenage response.

Trying to stall, needing just a little more time to prepare for my grandparents, the people I hardly knew, the small section of family that was always there in spirit. In a way, today was the day I would meet them in their own reality, soon to be my own.

"What's for dinner?" I ask, thinking about the most awkward family dinner possible. Sitting around the table, eating in silence with small gazes throughout, the forks speak through clashing on plates as we remain quiet.

"Tater tot hot dish." A warm meal served with smiles in North Dakota, sharing as much of the tradition with me as they could, or that's what I assume. A way to make my stay here more relaxing and less intimidating.

"Really?" I say somewhat confused, expecting a supper along the lines of chicken and taters or even rice but hot dish? Is that like a casserole?

"You betcha!" She says to me with that northern smile, oh my god! Everyone talks like that? There are some weird people here, even seeing the movie New In Town as a credible source.

Before I knew what the plans were for dinner, formal? Casual? I had no idea but a saucer with a mound of food was handed to me, along with a tall glass of chocolate milk. Heading to my room was natural for me but this cottage-like house was not home. When in doubt, eat at the table and hope that you won't be corrected.

"You can eat in your room if you want." Her soft voice like pins in a voodoo doll, coming across harsh in my small twelve year old head. Being as young as I was, the smallest mistake I made seemed life threatening, not much has changed.

"Ok." Is all I said as I dashed to my quarters, a flash of embarrassment gliding across the halls followed by the squeak of the door closing behind me.

One computer is basically all I have, one computer, a futon, and my backpack that was sitting comfortably against the door. Putting my plate on the desk, I sit down to eat something, for all I know I could die right here and now.

My murder would be silent, "City Boy Poisoned" would be the headline. Police would describe it as the perfect crime, he didn't stand a chance, staring death right in the eyes as the fork falls to the carpeted floor. I haven't died yet, is the thought that gets me through the first bite.

To me it tastes like home, a style dish that If I grew up here, it would become apart of me. The potatoes complementing the meat as the green bean adds a signature flavor that I can't just pass up. Hot dish is the comfort food of the north but not nationally, bringing it up in conversation leading to puzzled looks.

"How is it?" My grandmother asks, peeking her head in the doorway, to her surprise, there's nothing left on the plate to consume.

"Good" I say with a smile, I guess I get to live another day.

Shortly after the small talk, I get ready for bed, who am I kidding, I stay up until midnight watching music videos. This was the start of my internet insanity and yes, I do blame my grandma Dolly, I mean this out of complete love. She was the grandma that's home was the kitchen, baking, creating dishes from Facebook, she loved it all. With that prairie charm, it was impossible to not like her.

7th grade, another year of new experiences, new homework and teachers and for me new students. The feeling of being new wasn't as bad as you would think, the first time always being the hardest but you get used to it eventually.

I walk into English, a crowd of faces and I feel like all eyes are on me, pressure of standing in front of the class with your books and a dumbfounded expression is the absolute worst. Nervous smiling became me as I sat down in the only empty seat available, next to a geeky kid of small stature, eager to make my acquaintance.

"I'm Joey, you must be Hunter." He starts, already knowing my name, most likely because I missed the first day of school because Dolly and grandpa Fred wanted me to stay at their lake cabin, anything is better than school.

"Nice to meet you." I say awkwardly as he grasps my hand, smothering it with a tight grip. The perfect start to a friendship, right? Wrong, he was nice to me but the more I got to know him, I realized we had two complete different personalities. Him being the sporty type who always is talking about different teams while I'm the silent one who loves the arts. The only thing I can remember from 7th grade because he stood out to me and the people who stand out are the ones to be remembered.

Long story short, we quickly drifted apart when I got a new friend group, the outcasts. The good this is he didn't leave my life, just got quieter as other issues took over, then in highschool he was the freshman GSA representative, the club I joined. His never ending kindness and bravery to befriend the new kid made him great in my book, even though he was far from popular. We still talk, not as much but we have the mutual respect that we'll always have each other's back.

In the grand scheme of everything, it wasn't so bad. The worst part of 7th and 8th grade was the label of "Psycho kid" because I was desperate to meet everyone and become apart of the school, I raced too fast and fell too hard but I guess that's life.

To this day I still feel like I'll never fit in, not with the landscape, the people I've befriended are amazing and I wouldn't want anything less. Soon I'll find my way back home, but it's not in the cardsfor me, not yet.