IMMENSE SOLITUDES

The barbed wire fence behind the house marked the very boundary of civilization to the boy who was sitting atop the shed drinking a Dr. Pepper. He was at that age where his Mom would not let him cross the street without holding her hand but still old enough to sneak a Dr. Pepper and climb up on top of a shed. For as long as he could remember the far side of the fence had been forbidden, and like all forbidden things it held a certain fascination for him.


The boy quickly drained the rest of his soda and tossed the empty into the tall grass below. Then he sat with his arms crossed on top of his knees peering off into the distance. Beyond the fence the fields rolled away to the distant tree line, and beyond that the forest rolled away to the very lip of the horizon where the curvature of the earth swallowed it up. Although he would not have framed his thoughts with such a phrase as “immense solitudes” he had a sense that this was what lay in the land beyond the fence. He felt drawn to it.