Hyatt belongs to a series called "This Must Be the Place," which confronts personal memories tied to a place.
I fed the chickens and ducks up the hill while their owner's were out of town. It was winter and there was at least a foot of snow and ice on the ground. They let me borrow their four wheeler so I could more easily make the trek up their dirt road. I bundled up and made my way up the hill. They trusted me and I was happy to take care of their feathered friends.
On the last day, I discovered the owner's brother doing drugs in her house. We exhanged heated words and I left. Going up Hyatt was fine, but riding down was daunting. The road was curvy and wrapped around steep, rocky terrain. Just a few yards from the bottom, I lost control and slid right into a ditch. Snow was starting to come down and I was stuck. I had the choice of walking back up the hill and asking for help from the person who I just caught doing drugs, or walking a few hundred yards to a neighbor's house. I walked to the neighbor's house and he was happy to help. The brother was mad I asked the neighbor and didn't go looking for him. This piece represents finding comfort in asking for help from those you trust.
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