The sky is dark, studded with billions of stars and millions of constellations. Sammy knows he was once taught to name a few, but he has long since forgotten. He never paid any attention to his lessons anyway. What was schooling when there were dreams to explore? It makes sense for his journey to begin during the depths of night, doesn’t it? Night is the time set aside for dreaming, as he’s been reminded often enough by the pastor, his teachers, his mama, his papa. Not that he believes them, but Sammy has always liked symbolism. Leaving in the middle of the night seems right.

The street is quiet- the street is always quiet, and it is lined with rows of small homes with small porches. Everything around him seems small. He thinks of the open fields the wagon had bumped across on it’s way to New York, that summer day years ago when the family had journeyed toward Aunt Rose’s wedding. The world seemed so large there, out in the open emptiness of green and blue. He seemed so small, and the world seemed large, and he liked it that way. Lanterns flicker every few houses, and he wonders why the others are up- what could they be doing in the dead of night? Are they exploring dreams? He runs a hand through black hair, and his body pivots backwards. He can still see the house, down the road, drenched in suffocating darkness. He wonders what will happen in the morning. Bobby will probably wake first. He won’t wonder a thing- Bobby has grown used to waking up to find his big brother missing, probably running through the forest like an Indian, skin baking in the sun. But soon after Mama will ask Bobby where Sammy is, and Bobby won’t have an answer again. Mama will wait for him, as she always does. She will wait to scold Sammy for being irresponsible and immature. What will you have to show to G-D, she will ask, of your time on this earth? Sammy can picture her then and there, her clean and calloused hands wiping themselves against her apron, her blue eyes dull like a cloth washed too many times. She will look at him with a mixture of love and disappointment. Really, Sammy knows she means why can’t you spend your time working, why don’t you find some job, why can’t you find a way to put bread on our table?

What will she think when Sammy doesn’t show? When will she understand that he meant his words, for all those years? He meant it when he said he will buy her a palace- a palace for her and Papa and Bobby and Sarah. They will live in a castle built from gold. He will hire the best doctors in the world- he will bring them over from Europe if he needs- to make Papa better. Everything will be better. There is no gold in their tiny town of Newbury, deep in the heart of Massachusetts. In Newbury there is monotony. In Newbury there are no options, no windows, no doors. In Newbury there are no dreams.

Sammy turns away from his house before doubt, or worry, or guilt creep into his thumping heart. He has a bag slung across his shoulder. It doesn’t carry much- the clothing he wears is the clothing he brings, a simple shirt and grass stained trousers. He thinks of the sketch of Mama and Papa tucked within the satchel. Sarah will be angry when she discovers he took it, but he is scared that he will forget their faces. He wonders if they will forget his. When he returns, will they recognize his tanned skin and green eyes? Will they remember he is tall or will the recall him as short and stooped, like Papa? He wonders if Mama will cry tomorrow.


Determined steps resound on cobblestone, each the echo of another goodbye. Goodbye school house. Goodbye Mr. Parks. Goodbye church house. Goodbye Pastor. Goodbye William, and Johnny, and Adam, and Tom. Goodbye fences and fields, streams and brooks. I’ll see you soon, Sammy thinks, but don’t you worry- you’ll all hear my name before too long. So, Sammy leaves the goodbye’s behind. He is headed west, towards the ground laden with gold for him to discover. California is far, he remembers that much from geography. But he needn’t reach it by daybreak. He’s never been too far out of town by himself, yet he knows outside of town is where dreams are allowed to breath during the day. Daylight is welcome and Sammy wonders what dreams look like out in the open, in the middle, of the day. He’ll find out soon enough. Sammy lifts his head and the stars seem to twinkle golden. The bag shifts on his shoulders, his gaze cutting across plains and prairies straight towards California, and he doesn’t look back again.