I'm not french, I'm from Lansdale

14.89 miles and almost at the final destination. I'm here but I haven't reached it yet. In town but a part of it so unfamiliar that I can pretend I'm not really there yet.

I haven't recovered any memories yet and maybe I won't. What's been recovered so far is a very general sense of how things are here. The way people talk, the smell of the plants, the buzz of bugs.

When we got off the Schuylkill River Trail to connect to the Norristown Farm Park, we stopped at a gas station for food and a bathroom. 3 backpacked women stand out--as I'm sure they would have if I'd seen them as a teenager in Lansdale. The cashier asked me if I was french and I said "no, I'm from Lansdale."--I lost my luster immediately. But it was comforting to not be a stranger. I guess I was also trying to say to not take advantage or bullshit me. It's worked so far on this trip and at least eliminates the ordinary conversation people might have where they try to introduce you to or describe the space. Instead, for me, it makes things easier. That first day driving with Maddy from Philly to Reading, Christy said I was the chattiest she's ever seen me. But I think I finally had something to chat about--an understanding, a past, a recognition. It's here.