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I can’t say exactly what made me understand they were special.
Maybe it was the way she looked at her son when I put my face inside the car.
Maybe it was the way her son immediately moved between his mother and me, as if to protect her.
It was a matter of seconds, and I felt that something special was in that car.
I met Kristal two weeks after her last overdose.
We met by accident.
I was hitchhiking across the US with no set destination.
She was driving along Highway 412 in Arkansas.
I was looking for humanity.
She was with Skyler, her son.
I was inspired by Steinbeck’s pages.
She was headed home.
It was midday.
All the shadows fell harshly to the ground.
My thumb was up on the side of the road.
Kristal drove her shabby white jeep closer and stopped a few meters ahead of me.
She gave me a ride.
I was immediately impressed by them.
I felt that Kristal and Skyler had a special connection.
I saw a bold relationship between a mother and a son—a relationship I never had.
I felt that everything I was looking for was in that car.
I was headed nowhere.
I stayed with them.
I experienced the opposite side of the American Dream.
I felt the loneliness and melancholy of when people stop dreaming.
What follows is the chronicle of the time we spent together.
Doing things and doing nothing.
Being happy and being sad.
Being excited and being frustrated.