IF you know Dallas, this tiny story’ll make sense to you.
IF you DON’T know Dallas, this is a perfect place to start!
From “World Without Love ~ A Collection of Short Stories that Together Tell a Story (page 7):
I didn’t write this first story. I’m only retelling it because I think it explains a lot.
Evidently, way back in the summer of 1956 – the summer before my third birthday – my dad took a job as a fire-watcher up in the wild mountain timberlands of northern Idaho. He climbed a tall wooden tower each day to survey the forest for telltale signs of trouble, while my mom, my baby sister and I stayed in the tent below.
One warm August night, apparently I’d had enough of the idyllic existence and wanted to get on with my life.
So I left.
Mom and Dad didn’t know what to do.
I was nowhere to be found.
Alone in the wilderness.
Up high on the next ridge.
What was that?
(I had taken the flashlight with me.)
I was still trudging along when Dad caught up to me.
“Where you goin’?” He asked.
“I’m goin’,” was my reply.
“Goin’ where?” He pressed.
(You can learn more about World Without Love HERE!)