Hitchiking to Portland and Sleeping Under a Waxing Crescent Moon
Well, while my grandma is off having her baby, I am still getting to read amazing guest blog posts!!! My very favorite writing reminds me what it was like to be 16 and wild and free and completely invincible. Can you imagine my happiness when I got a guest blog post submission that made me feel like that? Today, Darrelyn Saloom, a kick-ass writer and a very gorgeous lady from Lafayette, Louisiana, writes all about how her grandma’s ghost kept her safe as she hitchhiked hither and yon with her best friend, Susie. I tried to post her grandma’s picture, but I kept cutting her pretty head off. My webmaster is at the Olympics, so I don’t have her ethereal photo posted yet, but check back. It's truly beautiful. Until then: Enjoy!
Photo of Darrelyn at 14 or 15 before she ran away from home:
Darrelyn Saloom is co-writing a memoir with and about Deirdre Gogarty, the 1997 WIBF Featherweight Champion from Ireland. She also guest blogs for Writer's Digest editor and publisher Jane Friedman's There Are No Rules: http://blog.writersdigest.com/norules/. You can follow Darrelyn on twitter: http://twitter.com/ficwriter
The Ghost of my Grandmother
My paternal grandmother is a ghost. I never knew her in life; she died of tuberculosis in her late twenties. I do know she married my grandfather, Julian, and they lived in Paducah, Kentucky. They had three towheaded boys. But from the stories I’ve heard, her dearly beloved was not the best husband. Some say she died in order to leave him. I don’t know if that’s true. But I do know her name is Ara. And that she visits me.
The first time I felt her eyes upon me, I was fifteen years old and hitchhiking to Portland, Oregon from my home in South Louisiana. Standing on the shoulder of Interstate 10, I stretched out my arm, stuck out my thumb, and immediately heard the hiss of air brakes. And just as pregnant storm clouds gave birth to hard rain, I climbed into the cab of an eighteen-wheel truck.
Beside me sat my childhood pal, Susie Frazier. For days we slipped in and out of cars and trucks and met an array of kind and generous strangers. And each time, I’d feel my grandmother’s eyes on me and hear the silent whisper that told me I was safe. So late one night, somewhere in Utah, we thumbed another ride and climbed into another cab of another truck on another interstate.
But something felt different this time. As the large and grisly truck driver with tobacco-stained teeth up-shifted to build speed, I again felt invisible eyes and heard a silent voice. But this time my grandmother did not foretell safety. Instead she said, “Flee!” Uncomfortable, I looked at Susie and she’d felt it too. But what could we do? It was dark outside, we were somewhere in Utah, and this trucker was flying.
An hour later, the eerie driver downshifted and exited onto a highway. Not the way we were supposed to be going. Susie and I threw a fit and told him to drop us off. “Now!” we screamed. So he stopped, and we shoved open the door and jumped out in the middle of nowhere. No town, no lights, no houses, no nothing. Only a cool breeze, countless stars, and a waxing crescent moon.
My companion and I made our way through a stubbly field, cleared a few rocks, and spread out our sleeping bags. We used water from a canteen to brush our teeth. Susie’s dark brown hair was cropped short, so she combed the tangles from my long, blond ponytail. Then we stretched out in our sleeping bags and marveled at the sky. And fell into the deep sleep of youth.
Until the ground started shaking. Roaring and shaking. Awakened, I shimmied out of my bag and pulled Susie from hers. And then I spotted a single clear light racing towards me. The roaring grew louder, the shaking grew harder, and the light grew brighter as it moved closer and closer. And no, it wasn’t my grandmother. It was a train! In the dark, we’d thrown our sleeping bags two feet from the tracks.
Laughing, Susie and I rolled up our belongings and headed back to the highway. We had no idea where we were. But the sun had begun to color the sky. We’d been on the road for three days and three nights. I wore Keds canvas sneakers, my only pair of jeans, and a green t-shirt. I did not have a jacket. But I did have seventy-two dollars in my pocket, a friend by my side. And the ghost of my grandmother who worked overtime.
Darrelyn, you really know how to tell a story. I can so easily picture this escapade, it’s like I was there. So I have to chuckle that your travel companion’s name was Susie, just like me! I so enjoy your writing. Thanks for sharing.
Suzette
Darrelyn, I love this. It takes me back to our hitchhiking days.
Once again I have to say how much I love your ease of writing.
I want to check back and see the pic of your grandmother, Ava!
Love,
Cindy
(In north Texas, where the snow is finally starting to melt)
Another great guest post, Darrelyn! I’ll bet you could get a whole novel out of that hitchhiking journey.
Wow, what a powerful story! So simply and beautifully told, yet sends a message far beyond the stars. Darrelyn can write prose packed with smooth footwork and finishing power punches.
I just love this story, and I know the kind of courage required to tell it. Many readers will disparage the writer, make fun of her claims to be in touch with her grandmother’s spirit. But we all have this ability, if we are willing to listen and feel. Call it what you will – a hunch, an inner voice, your gut – they’re just all names for a connection with higher source. I have long been in touch with my “guides.” I value their assistance and have learned – the hard way – not to ignore their advice. Kudos to you, Darrelyn, for telling this story.
At once lovely and eerie. I keep a bottle of my late mother’s perfume on my dresser. While I haven’t had the kind of guidance Darrelyn writes of here, there are times–rather frequently, in fact–when I walk into my bedroom and it smells as if her perfume has been sprayed in the air.
What a great article! Her innocent attitude, threatening circumstances, and sense of peace make me feel like everything will be okay. The story invokes a spiritual feeling in me that many authors seek to produce, but few succeed at.
It’s a special feeling, being in touch with the other side, and when it happens you never forget. It’s good she was there for you, presently, a young girl and her friend hitching across America would be mastacated by the sadists, stolen from the world they want. I’ve got to admit that I am neaslous however what I wouldn’t give to go on a Huck Sawyer adventure of my own.
Darrelyn,
What a tough cookie you were in your teens!
Thank you for sharing your descriptive story and you were right to think that I would enjoy it. You have such a wonderful way with words.
I was waiting with baited breath to make sure that you and Susie made it through the story unscathed and was glad to sigh a breath of relief at the end.
You leaving me wanting more!
Darrelyn,
I agree Jillian – I was also anxious to read whether you and Susie were safe and would love to hear more of this story! I am sure there are more tales to tell from this adventure. It is so important to listen to that voice in our heads. How beautiful that yours was your Grandmother’s voice, giving you strength and keeping you safe. Thanks for sharing.
Jenny
Wonderful story!!!
Oh! No wonder you related to VK! *smiling*
And don’t we do some brave(stupid) things when we are young . . . If you put the danger aside, I love how we were once so fearless – nothing could stop what we wanted – there were no obstacles – we should live more like this now, shouldn’t we *smiling*
As always, a pleasure and a wonder to read your work, Darrelyn
Hey Beautiful! I know what it is like to be looked out for by a loved one who has passed on. Just last night my wife, Caroline, and I were laying in bed when we smelled sweet flowers. It only lasted an instant, but we knew our sweet Angel Avery came to visit us. It’s wonderful to know that we have a guardian angel looking after all of us. I love you and miss you guys. Sure miss the good ol’ days on the farm.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Shane Draughon
Darrelyn,
This was an awesome peek inside your teen life; wow, I felt like I was right there with you. What an awesome protective grandma you have. I’m definitely looking forward to reading more of your story. LOVED IT! Thanks so much for sharing this with me.
Dawn Herring
JournalWriter Freelance
I enjoyed your story and your gift for using details like the Keds sneakers to evoke a feeling of sharing the experience with you. The “deep sleep of youth”…that’s a wonderful description. I too would like to hear how the journey continued.
Best,
David
I loved reading this little piece of your past, Darrelyn. Ara is a beautiful name. And the detail of no jacket–perfect.
May Ara rest in peace now. All of these visuals that you create with your recall of these small details make this a really charming read. I really loved it.
Darrelyn, I just stared breathing again-the more I learn about you the more in awe I an! Thank you you sharing your wonderful stories and thank grandmother Ara keeping an eye on you so we get to enjoy getting to know you.
Hey Darrelyn! Sorry for the late response, my internet access is lacking.
Great story! It must have been so exhilarating to sleep out under the stars, without knowing where you will end up next.I think it’s so awesome that you had the guts to go out into the world like that. I’m also very glad you came through it intact. Sometimes I wonder if I should run away, but the idea terrifies me. But then I think about you and think it’s not totally impossible.
You’ve lived such an experienced life, I’m glad I know I can always count on you for advice.
Darrelyn,
Thank you for sharing such a wonderful story. You are a beautiful writer…I feel as if I were experiencing it with you. Love love loved it!
Darrelyn,
What a treat to catch up on your latest stories and read one gem after another. This story is so wonderfully crafted, I want 10 more chapters! Your grandmother’s spirit is surely smiling on you now.