Crysti Couture

I grew up in a rather difficult home. Perhaps one day I can relinquish details about the state of things at the time, but what’s important to gather is that due to the marks on my body and the condition of my face, I often found myself in state custody.

Having said that, sometimes the state couldn’t do it’s job. Either they were flooded with cases, or my parents would convince any given social worker into allowing me back into the home.

My first official hitchhiking experience was when I was 13. This night was not unlike any other: I was huddled in a hidden corner in my Chaparral, NM home, listening to the approaching threats of violence and promises of pain. I had already taken one of the most memorable beatings of my life and was scared of the impending continuation of flogging. So I did what anyone else would do: I escaped.

Cutting out the screen of my window and escaping into the vast and empty desert was probably not the best conceived idea, but I was working out of fear…so I kept on running, tripping over tumbleweeds and sequoia roots since my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the inky darkness of the New Mexico desert.

At some point, I looked back and all I saw were dots of distant light representing where I had been. My pace slowed and suddenly I stood still, looking up at the crystal clear night sky. It looked like I could touch the stars. I remember I was cold. I wore only flip flips, jeans and a thin muslin shirt. The need for rest and warmth overtook me; the soft desert sand seemed warm…I dug myself a hole and slept for a few hours in the middle of nowhere. When I woke up, I felt rested, but it was still dark. I got up, dusted myself off and kept walking.

I felt like I had bee walking aimlessly for hours…where do I go? At the time, I had my first boyfriend who happened to live in La Luz, NM. This boy, we’ll call him “Tom” was also 18. Despite the obvious illegality in age difference, I was convinced I was in love; countless of heart filled letters flooded his mailbox as well as poetic professions of love, and the like. I decided I’d pay him a visit.

Finally, I saw lights…moving lights. The Highway! I began walking towards the lights, using the light of the moon to guide my steps. Once I arrived, I knew that getting anywhere would be difficult. I also felt the sleepiness wave over me again. I crossed the freeway and saw yet another set of lights not too far ahead of me. I walked to the compound and saw that it was much like an airplane hangar and it was completely fenced in and undergoing construction. After all these years, I know now that this was MacGregor Range.

I walked around the perimeter and found no way to get in. Then, I froze in my tracks…right in front of me were giant furry black spiders emerging from the tumbleweeds. And when I say giant, I mean massive, size-of-your-head type spiders. I freaked…I wanted to continue down my path but these spiders were in the way. I picked up a pebble and threw it at the creature, hoping that somehow my attempt at dominance mi ght scare the sucker away. It didn’t. Instead, the monstrous arachnid turned toward me in attack mode. I screamed and said ‘Fuck This’ and jumped the fence.

I found a cozy bulldozer to camp in for the night. The next morning, construction workers started to pour in. I panicked but kept my resolve and told one of the workers that I wanted to get to La Luz, NM and asked how I might go about to find it. He gave me a ride to the ‘carretera’ (spanish for The Highway) and there, on US-54 was were I first stuck out my thumb. It wouldn’t be the last time either.

Subscribe to Crystiology for more stories and introspections like this. I quite like reminiscing about a past that most people wouldn’t think a girl like me would have had. My adventures have made me who I am and therefore, I embrace it.

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