Or he became me. ~ Cary Grant As the plane touches down, my stomach swirls with both anticipation and abject fear. I keep hearing my mother’s nagging voice taunt me on my future failure: “You’ll never make it in the land of those fruits and nuts!” As opposed to the fruits and nuts at home, I’m guessing she meant. Maybe some of them here won’t be dried and cured, at the very least. The plane taxis the runway and pulls into its slot. When I look out the window and see the smog-filled air and graying buildings, I see only opportunity awaiting me. No one knows me here. There will be no looks or snickers. No one waiting to call me “white trash.” No whispers of my father. In fact, I think with satisfaction, I can say he’s dead. Exploding with anticipation for the life awaiting me, I practically burst from the airplane, pushing past slow cowboys and sluggish vacation travelers. “Excuse me, excuse me.” New life starting here. Outta my way. Okay, so I didn’t expect my new life to be quite so smoggy.
