I am a daughter of the Central Valley.
I grew up walking the West Side neighborhood tracks.

They remember me.
And I remember them.

The little girl who was told:
"You can only go so far."
"Stop there."

The boundary was right at the edge of my block where the world 
beyond was not meant for

I am Rick's little sister.
Even in his shadow, I wasn't allowed.
No, Melanie. You can't go there.
Why?
Because I said so.

From my mother.
From my brother.
From the world.

I always wondered
what was on the other side?
What was being kept from me?
Or were they just trying to protect me?

I never knew.
But I always felt it:
That deep, aching urge
to cross the line.

To go beyond.