Brenda Colbath

The End of the Road Brenda Colbath

Imagine if you will, waking up in the Ladies Restroom stall wrapped in a musty blanket, on I-5 in Southern Oregon. You are wearing ragged jeans, flip-flops, a big red t-shirt with a smiley face on the front. You have no memory of how you got there or who you are. You sometimes have flashes of being in a white nightgown and a beach. Your body continues walking south, always south. The day's blend into each other, until after three days without food, you finally decide to beg a meal in exchange for work at a Truck Stop. A nasty cashier tells you they don't give handouts to homeless people, and screams at you to get out. Humiliated, head down walking toward the exit, you get smacked in the face with the door. Getting hit in the head is the best thing that has happened to you in months. It could turn out to be the light at the end of the tunnel. The road to regaining your memory and former life is a rough, and bumpy road. Learning to be strong, self-sufficient and to roll with the punches will be in your future. You have to handle the rest of the punches in store for you after the smack on the head.