This is the story about my life that I rarely reflected upon until late August of 1971. My Dad packed up, told mom and us he would send for a us in a few weeks when he found work. He was heading west hoping to find work in Colorado. I was to start my sophomore year in Montoursville high school in a two weeks. Catching the same school bus at the same spot since I started school. My mother had 10 siblings and dad had 9 and they most lived within 30 miles of our home. We were going to leave our home with no plans to return. Leaving he house my dad built from the ground up. Spending summers in the creek across the road, attending Bible School in Marsh Hill, Picking blueberries in summer and strawberries in the spring. Sled riding down the mountain behind our house in the winter. Building snowmen and anxiously waiting for Santa Clause. A life filled with friends and family that in a few days would all end. We didn't have a phone, so the day before we left to head west, I had to let a friend of mine know that I would not be on the bus the first day of school and no days after. It was a long walk up the road. One that I have made many times. It was on that last walk that I thought back on my life nestled in this valley. Tightly tucked away in these tree cover mountains. I relived my memories I created with family and friends; places I had been and the things I did, good and not so good. My life was going to be turned upside down in a few days. I wanted to hold on to these memories as long as I could. I may not see this place ever again. I don't want to go. I was 15 and I didn't have a choice.
