Chapter One
TEN MILE
Wed. June 15th
Bonjour Meme,
I write this in the dark, under the lowered-tailgate of papa's station wagon, with a full blood moon illuminating my words in fluorescent gel. Papa is stumbling around our campfire with flames shooting four feet in the air, if he falls he'll be charred like Uncle Tio's burnt sopapilla. I crawled under here to get away from papa's crazy screaming and getting mad at Miles. He threw a chunk of firewood at Miles' head, but missed by a mile; no joke.
Meme, I wish you were here with me, I'd crawl into your lap, even if ma mere thinks I'm too old; you're the only one that can comfort me without trying. I'm all grown, but ma mere asked me to please go to bed early, and get out of papa's hair. I don't mind. Tomorrow comes early.
Tomorrow we leave; papa wants to see the ocean, and he says it's a full day away.
Sleep well, meme.