stands before us,
rising up out of the ground. Hundreds of people are there waiting for the next
act to begin.
Trent leans back against the thick trunk of the tree and
takes a deep breath. “This is more like it,” he says, “Just you and me, away
from the gawking idiots.”
“Be nice,” I say, standing beside him beneath the swaying
leaves, “They’re just excited, is all.”
“Yeah, well. It gets old pretty quickly,” he sighs, “You’ll
see soon enough.”
“You say that like you think I’m actually going to get
anywhere in this business,” I reply.
His green eyes turn toward me, bright with sincerity and
conviction. “I don’t think anything of the sort, Ellie. I know it. You’re the
real thing. Can’t you see that?”
“Trent,” I say, dropping my gaze to the tall grass, “We
don’t even know each other. How can you know something like that?”
“I just do,” he shrugs, “Maybe I recognize something in you
that I’ve known about myself for a long time.”
“What’s that?” I ask over the cheering crowd. The band is
starting to file onstage, all decked out in their indie folk regalia.
“That you’ve been searching for something your entire life,”
Trent goes on, “Somewhere you feel safe, and whole. Somewhere that feels like
home. And if you’re anything like me, you’ve only ever found one place that
comes close.”
“But where?” I ask, “Where do you find that?”
Trent gestures toward the stage as the musicians take up
their instruments. “Right there,” he says, “Inside of the music. The first time
I was up onstage—and mind you, it was really just the back of a shitty bar and
grill when I was fourteen—I felt like I was coming home for the first time. I
felt like I could take a breath, and settle in to stay for a while. And after
that, I knew that no other single place would ever feel like enough. No house,
no state, no country would ever feel as right and as safe as a song does.”
“But what do you do in the meantime?” I breathe, fighting to
swallow the knot in my throat, “When you’re not in the music. Can’t you ever
get back to feeling like you belong somewhere?”
Trent looks at me sadly. “What do you think?” He asks, “If
you’re asking me, you already know.”
“I thought that I was just growing up,” I say, blinking back
the stinging tears before they can well up in my eyes. “I thought I felt out of
place at home because I was growing out of it. But you know, when I’m honest
with myself, it’s not just home that feels too small for me now. It’s
everywhere I’ve ever been. I feel it at school, I even feel it here. And I love
it here, I really do...but it’s not the same.”
“I know it can hurt,” Trent says, looking at me intently, “I
know there’s a sadness that comes with all this. God, do I know it. But
Ellie...think about what you get in return. Would you really trade the music
for anything else in the world?”
“Never,” I laugh. “What could possibly be worth it?”
“Nothing that I’ve stumbled upon yet,” Trent smiles, “All
you can do is keep moving through the world, Ellie. No place you go will ever
feel quite like home again, but it’s not because home doesn’t exist. It’s
because you’ve already found it somewhere else. You’ve found it on the stage,
in the music. And you know what? That will always be there. That feeling of
coming home again doesn’t go away.”
“Really?” I say.
“Well...At least not yet,” Trent grins, “But then again, I’m
only twenty five. Ask me when I’m sixty, I guess.”
I let out a single laugh, and a rouge tear slides down my
cheek. Trent’s green eyes blaze with endless understanding. He edges toward me
beneath the towering tree and, without a word, takes my hand in his.
Our fingers entwine, his grasp strong and full of
compassion. I let my eye flutter closed for a moment, just long enough to
memorize this instant in time. I let the warmth of the
rising up out of the ground. Hundreds of people are there waiting for the next
act to begin.
Trent leans back against the thick trunk of the tree and
takes a deep breath. “This is more like it,” he says, “Just you and me, away
from the gawking idiots.”
“Be nice,” I say, standing beside him beneath the swaying
leaves, “They’re just excited, is all.”
“Yeah, well. It gets old pretty quickly,” he sighs, “You’ll
see soon enough.”
“You say that like you think I’m actually going to get
anywhere in this business,” I reply.
His green eyes turn toward me, bright with sincerity and
conviction. “I don’t think anything of the sort, Ellie. I know it. You’re the
real thing. Can’t you see that?”
“Trent,” I say, dropping my gaze to the tall grass, “We
don’t even know each other. How can you know something like that?”
“I just do,” he shrugs, “Maybe I recognize something in you
that I’ve known about myself for a long time.”
“What’s that?” I ask over the cheering crowd. The band is
starting to file onstage, all decked out in their indie folk regalia.
“That you’ve been searching for something your entire life,”
Trent goes on, “Somewhere you feel safe, and whole. Somewhere that feels like
home. And if you’re anything like me, you’ve only ever found one place that
comes close.”
“But where?” I ask, “Where do you find that?”
Trent gestures toward the stage as the musicians take up
their instruments. “Right there,” he says, “Inside of the music. The first time
I was up onstage—and mind you, it was really just the back of a shitty bar and
grill when I was fourteen—I felt like I was coming home for the first time. I
felt like I could take a breath, and settle in to stay for a while. And after
that, I knew that no other single place would ever feel like enough. No house,
no state, no country would ever feel as right and as safe as a song does.”
“But what do you do in the meantime?” I breathe, fighting to
swallow the knot in my throat, “When you’re not in the music. Can’t you ever
get back to feeling like you belong somewhere?”
Trent looks at me sadly. “What do you think?” He asks, “If
you’re asking me, you already know.”
“I thought that I was just growing up,” I say, blinking back
the stinging tears before they can well up in my eyes. “I thought I felt out of
place at home because I was growing out of it. But you know, when I’m honest
with myself, it’s not just home that feels too small for me now. It’s
everywhere I’ve ever been. I feel it at school, I even feel it here. And I love
it here, I really do...but it’s not the same.”
“I know it can hurt,” Trent says, looking at me intently, “I
know there’s a sadness that comes with all this. God, do I know it. But
Ellie...think about what you get in return. Would you really trade the music
for anything else in the world?”
“Never,” I laugh. “What could possibly be worth it?”
“Nothing that I’ve stumbled upon yet,” Trent smiles, “All
you can do is keep moving through the world, Ellie. No place you go will ever
feel quite like home again, but it’s not because home doesn’t exist. It’s
because you’ve already found it somewhere else. You’ve found it on the stage,
in the music. And you know what? That will always be there. That feeling of
coming home again doesn’t go away.”
“Really?” I say.
“Well...At least not yet,” Trent grins, “But then again, I’m
only twenty five. Ask me when I’m sixty, I guess.”
I let out a single laugh, and a rouge tear slides down my
cheek. Trent’s green eyes blaze with endless understanding. He edges toward me
beneath the towering tree and, without a word, takes my hand in his.
Our fingers entwine, his grasp strong and full of
compassion. I let my eye flutter closed for a moment, just long enough to
memorize this instant in time. I let the warmth of the
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