A girl sat, bleary eyed, staring at her monitor. A half-finished report flickered on the screen. A stack of homework teetered precariously on the arm of the couch, next to her. She'd been working all day, an entire Sunday wasted, and hadn't seemed to get anywhere at all.
With a huff, she pushed away from her computer screen, pulled on a sweater, ran outside and jumped on her bike. She HAD to get away. The bag she'd thought to bring with her carried a change of clothes. Maybe she'd just ride to the monument and spend a night with the crickets. She was so, so tired of this place, of this life.
Suddenly...she couldn't explain it, but on her way out to the Monument, she was drawn onto the tree-lined path that lead into the cemetary. She hadn't intended to go there, but something made her turn her bike to the left.
She didn't know what was happening. Her bike seemed almost to steer itself, further and further into the cemetary. She'd never been in this part. Great-gramma Fern was buried waaaaay over there. When her breath started to come in short, pained gasps, she stopped and looked around. The sunset was absolutely breathtaking. Scanning the graves, a name made her stop. The headstone itself looked ancient and ragged. Inman. Inman? Gloria Inman...Where had she heard that name before? Digging deep, it clicked. Great-grandma Fern's grandma. Would that make her my great-great-great-grandma? Wow. Five generations back. All of her roots were in this place, in this town.
She knew there was a reason she'd been shown this. She needed a reminder, that this was her home. This is where she is needed. No matter how eager she is to get away, to move on, to do more...this is her home.
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