Nomad

The leaves were rustling as they were being gently kissed by the autumn breeze. The birds were sitting on the naked branches. The roads were layered by a carpet of leaves. Agatha was sitting under the maple tree, holding 'Mockingbird' that was gifted by her mother on her eighteenth birthday. It was the thing she owned with a sentimental value. Her fingers were caressing the edges of the book.

Agatha had to sell her house to pay for the mortgage her mother had left when she died about one and a quarter years before. With little money that was left after payments, she bought a minivan and left the town. It was difficult to find a job with only a high diploma and getting into a college was way too difficult. Changing cities from time to time, Agatha worked as a salesgirl to the chef and a delivery girl to sweeping at restaurants. It wasn't the jobs but the lack of warm feeling that concerned her. Even though the sleeping bag in her minivan was comfortable but it didn't feel like a recharging hug after a busy day. 

She was in New York, cleaning tables at a coffee house when it was visited by a group of youngsters who were going to Tahoe, Nevada for an annual festival. Intrigued by their odd appearance, she asked them about the festival. The shirtless man called Robb took a keen interest in telling her about how it was started by two friends around a half-century ago when they left Nevada in search of their own American dream. Later more people joined in and what became a celebration of the nomadic lifestyle in the middle of the Nevadan desert.

For once in a long time, Agatha felt hope. The festival resonated with her longing for somewhere she could feel belonged. She left the job and started her journey to Nevada which she finished in about a couple of days. 

The festival was a gathering of more than a thousand people. Amidst the still and lifeless desert, stood a temporary neighborhood of minivans, RVs, and tents. Agantha parked her minivan too. She found Robb and his group while she was in the shops set up by the fellow's nomads and they welcomed her as if they had known her forever.

"What are they doing?" she asked as she saw people visiting around a wooden structure in the middle of the gathering.

"That's our 'Tree of life' or 'the cuscuta', you can it whatever you want. See it however you want." Robb explained.

"Sorry, but I didn't get it," Agatha said.

"See, people write their wishes, complaints, stories on papers and put it there. That's what our life is.....dreams, hope, stories but they don't let us enjoy life. It sucks the happiness from us like cuscuta sucks nutrients from its host plant." Robb told her.

Agatha too wanted to join the ritual that commenced the festival. She wrote a couple of draft letters to put on the tree.....but nothing seemed to give-

-tranquility.

She threw the paper she was writing on and noticed the book, she was using as a clipboard. It the 'Mockingbird' that her mother gifted her.

She knew what she needed to do.

As the tree was set on fire, as a metaphor for letting go of all the things that were stopping the people from enjoying life, the pages of her books also burnt. She brushed her tears away as she saw it turning into ashes as if it set her free. She fervor in a long time.