Middle of Nowhere

Chapter One: The Arrival

The rolling green hills fly by as I press my forehead to the cool window of the car. Every now an then there's a herd of cows or horses on the middle of nowhere. Which is exactly where we are, middle-of-nowhere Minnesota.

My music blasts in my ears loud enough that my mother will eventually say 'Ever, will you please turn that noise down?!' Not that I'll hear her say this, of course.

Moms idea of music is 80's and 90's boy bands and Cindi Loper wannabes; not that it's bad music but she doesn't like the current music, especially rap. But the music that she absolutely despises is country. So when I blast my Favorites playlist it drives her up a wall because it's made of all genres. She thinks tut the words in some of the songs are inappropriate, but, seriously, have you listened to some of the lyrics in 90's songs? I mean, the other day I heard a song with the lyrics along the lines of 'what do I have to be to get you to sleep with me?' or something like that. If you haven't figured it out already, I'm a music freak. All music, all the time. I don't have a favorite genre, I like 'em all! R&B, rap, country, even Spanish oldies! My iPod consists of all of them. Moms leg is bouncing up and down, a habit that she pulls out when she's nervous. It bugs the crap out of me. I wonder what she's nervous about?

Our car pulls onto a long gravel road that stretches past where the eye can see. I groan and roll my head away from the outside world. I can't take it any longer. There's so much green almost... too much. So far my parents haven't specified to where we are going, but I'm used to it. We travel a lot and don't stay in one place for very long, which is why books and music are my constant companion. My parents are journalists which is the reason for our constant moving. You have to go where the food goes is my dads favorite saying when I complain of our constant moving.

 Usually we go from city to city, not rural areas though. Which is why I'm not used to seeing trees on end after watching miles after miles of green and brown grass with no buildings over 5 stories high. It's almost making me claustrophobic.

After about 30 minutes of driving down the rocky gravel road, we come upon and old, red farm house. There are a few pickup trucks in a small, what-you-could-almost-call-a-parking-lot off to the side of the farm house. A few bright windows are lit up in the oncoming darkness and in some you can see shadowy figures moving around, settling for the night. I see a small sign dangling by the road, I can just make out the words Cozy Quarters Bed and Breakfast. So this is where we will be staying for the next 2 weeks or so.