And Cindy was consigned to a doghouse in the backyard to which she was roped to keep her from roving. Away from the manure and Peach blossoms and the Honeysuckle of the farm, I became somebody else. I had to ban any thoughts of that place from my life. If I couldn t be lavished with it, I just wouldn t admit that it had ever existed. And I simply erased it from my mind.
Exile is exile.
And in those few moments the awareness of that whole other history of myself rose up. A history that was secreted away in the forests of another earth I had inhabited. The old blood was aroused. These feelings fermented a long time, and it wasn t until some years later I acted. I began trying to locate people I once knew who were still living in or around Buckhannon.