The sprawling expanse of wheatfields shimmered and undulated under the heaviness of the full moon as we drove along the Trans-Canada towards Winnipeg. Barlow thought I was ashamed of her and the bus because I didn't introduce her to my friends and family. Heck No! I was immensely proud to have her as my friend. I wanted to show her off to everybody I had ever known, exclaim to the world, "Well, maybe I didn't amount to much, but I have cool friends!"
The sad part was...I was hesitant and apprehensive about showing anybody my past lives. I didn't want her to see all that had been mine as a kid, the suffering and the hurting, the secrets of a childhood I had kept hidden from everybody. She didn't need to bear witness as I tried to resolve unifinished issues. Dark moments of the soul are private ventures. We lay together in the back of the bus and talked long into the night. What had begun as a simple apology had erupted into a huge archeological exploration of a tortured wandering soul. I had found myself displaying a sense of honesty I never knew existed and told her things I had never told anybody ever in my entire life. It was an emotional experience wrought from the depths of being...
...and I never want to go throught it again.
