To The Person I Shared Barracks With

Damn, what the hell happened?

In the blink of an eye you were here and now you’re gone. I don’t understand it but I guess it’s for the best. I hope your road trip is going well and that you’re having loads of fun. I guess you’ll be reading this when it’s all over.

How did it feel when the tires ran over your driveway?

I can’t imagine all the things you’ve seen since you left the farm. I hope you found some peace with your time here this summer. In just a few months, your life will be so different it might seem like this was all a dream I suppose it was in a way.

I’m really glad to know that you’re out in the world, living and being who you are. You’re the shit, Riley.

I’m grateful to have had the weekend in Santa Cruz and San Francisco with you and K.. What’s sad is how that’s sort of taken over my memory. I suppose all we can do is take comfort in knowing that all of the memories in blueberry fields, cookhouses, and tents go on living in our biology forever.

It’s been strange trying to form new friendships with the new wave of people on the farm, after you all were kicked off. In some ways it feels like I’m waiting for everyone in the first group to come back. Do I still belong on this farm after you all have left? Maybe it’s time I leave as well.

As it is now, I have nowhere to go, nowhere to be. I’m not used to this. Usually, I’m the first one to leave. Maybe it’s good for me to experience this, but damn. I miss talking to you every day. I don’t know if I’ve ever connected to a group of people in the way I connected to the group we had here.

Time will tell, I suppose.

I could go on writing to you for hours, Riley, but all that I really need you to know is that you made a lonely soul feel at home and I’m grateful for that and I wish you all the luck in the world. I hope you find peace and joy and have strength enough to have confidence in yourself and the clarity to see you have all you need.

Your pal,

Roman