I was so lost. I had no idea how to find our house. The only way I knew was the way the school bus went, stopping and going from one house to the next.

          Perhaps I did it to feel a connection to my dad. There is no other reason on Gods earth that I can figure why I, a painfully shy seventh grade transplant from the North to the South, would venture to try out for the school basketball team.

          No one had come to pick me up after try outs so after waiting around for about a half hour, the coach offered me a ride (I don't think he was allowed to go until we were all gone from the school). "Hop in", he said as he opened his car door, "Where's home?" I slumped into the seat wanting to tell him that home was far away. Home was a farm where my dad lived. Home was rolling hills and fields of dandelions and buttercups. Home was cows munching cuds and horses galloping up to the fence to greet me. Home was a one room school house on a dirt road. Home was a place where people talked normal and where my dad was the coach of everything.

          But I didn't tell him that. I heard myself tell him that I wasn't sure but thought I could get him there the way my bus went. As I began to direct him, in my soft and too shy voice, I became panicked. School buses pick up kids in indirect routes. I knew I hadn't paid enough attention to detail and had no idea of any road names, just turns and up and down hills. I wasn't sure at all, things looked different and it was getting dark. In short order my insides were turned to mush as I knew I had no clue how to get to my house. I know that this man was getting frustrated. He had been driving around for close to an hour when he asked me if I made good grades. When I told him all "A"s I could tell he thought me a liar.

          I earnestly searched for something familiar some landmark that might have meaning. But as the wheels of this unfamiliar car turned on equally unfamiliar roads, the depth of being lost knew no limits.

          At the summit of the next hill, I saw a familiar oak and told him, "There is my house." The relief on his face flooded the car and poured out with me as I opened the door to get out. I thanked him through tears he said he was glad I was home.

          "Home", I thought. "No, you have no idea."