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My fondest memory as a child is the crisp smell of pine and magnolia trees through the cracked window of my grandmother’s bedroom, as I lay in her huge bed that always swallowed me whole, listening to the tune of hummingbirds and robins whistling melodies in my ear as I awoke at dawn. It is an unforgettable smell, the smell of my wholesome youth. One with no responsibilities, no bills, no worries other than what I would wear on my first day of school or what was for lunch that day. Oh, what sweet memories those were. Those same memories washed over me as I stood in an unfamiliar city at a truck stop at around 3 am. I snap back to reality standing there frozen from a mixture of fear, shock, denial, and icy cold wind one cold February night. I was twenty-three years old, no longer a child, but more a tormented soul escaping a certain dismal future. Sometimes I saw visions of Grandma as she stood in her old-fashioned kitchen baking cookies and treats saying, “It’s a big world out there and Mississippi is not where you should spend your whole life.” So, there I was in the unknown after being forced to flee from a monster of a man from whom I spent two years hiding within myself. This is where I drew the line for this toxic relationship in order to discover life on my own. Where was I you ask? Was it Arizona, New Mexico, or maybe Texas? I didn’t walk far from my abandoned place in the cold parking lot of a gas station before I saw Louisiana plastered on every key chain inside the station. Not the intended Texas like I had planned for my getaway days before as I packed for our trip. The plan of walking in a gas station bathroom and never coming out wasn’t that easy. He came looking for me, but he was chased off as my plea for help was noticed and acted upon by the blonde security lady. The middle of nowhere was far safer than the life I just left. I was not far from home but it was the first step back to knowing and discovering myself. Discovering myself meant doing it alone. Not like when I was bouncing from town to town building walls of distrust from making friendships then having to break away from them because of daddy being a soldier. Going from coast to coast because dads job said so. I am grateful to have had the privilege of traveling at a young age preparing me for the strength and courage to take on a state like this alone. So, the journey began. I had nothing but the clothes on my back, one shoe (the other snatched away and rode off with by the beast) and thankfully my ID and social. From there, on to the two-story old Victorian style home with other women like me, with whom I could heal my wounds. The town seemed familiar. It was old and rickety like Mississippi with a Parisian New Orleans look and feel. The smell of rustic architecture, mossy oaks, and swampy water replaced the Magnolia and piney smell of my old home in Mississippi. This town is old, cultural and full of an unashamed historical past. I like it here. As I keep walking to explore the town, I make mental marks to remember my way back. I learned that town. I did discover myself there as one day turned into thirty-five days of living in that sheltered home. Walking or cycling to work for weeks, learning people’s names and recalling locations as I toiled in the delicatessen feeding and befriending countless families. Their sense of togetherness was well needed by me at that time. They were in awe of me, just as I was in awe of myself. Thirty-five days turned into three years. Then finally off to Texas where I originally planned to be. Then off to visit and explore more unknown cities and places. I learned to survive on my own. I did it, granny. I dove off that Magnolia tree and flew into my own.