“i wonder what it’s like to grow up in a town of 114,” sister #4 said as we slowed down for the six blocks that make up Biscay, MN.
“i have no idea,” watching the inky blackness speed past and dreaming up at the half moon guiding our way.

jeff buckley’s “hallelujah” was served up next in the CD rotation. the song so dramatic and so beautiful and the night so black, it blocked out the garish yellow of sister #4’s short bus (aka the yellow ford escape) and i had to close my eyes to avoid being overwhelmed by the perfectness of the night and the song and the warm car speeding towards home.

“you know, i really hope i’m famous someday,” sister #4 interrupted my duet from beyond the grave.
“why?”
“because then i can go on the news or something and tell them all i’m from Biscay.”
“ok”
“yeah and then when i’m on the news i’ll say, “YEAH, REMEMBER ME BISCAY? I’M THE GIRL YOU FORGOT ABOUT.”
“that’s so so funny,” i spit out around my laughter.
“yeah, then maybe they’ll feel so bad they’ll put up a sign that says ‘Biscay the home of Kelli Chromey’.”
“maybe they will.”
“so you gotta help me think of something to get famous for. and it’s gotta be good famous, they won’t put up a sign if i’m bad famous.”
“infamous,” i said.
“whatever, i just need a sign for the girl that Biscay forgot.”