I attempt to visit every town along the narrow highway I find myself on, driving each street and alleyway. It's time-consuming. A constant reminder that the goal is not to be somewhere; it's searching for individuals who share their own version of curiosity. A scavenger hunt of sorts where the clues are not always obvious, sometimes wholly hidden. There was no reason to stop in Woodrow, Saskatchewan; you'd miss it changing the radio station. The trees provided camouflage and privacy for its few citizens. Making the turn, and from the driver's seat, I spotted a woman sitting on the front steps, her seat leaning to one side. I assumed this was her home. A faded Canada Post sign was displayed below the front window, letting residents know where to grab their packages and mail; it is common in rural areas to have residents acting as postmasters. Paint peeling from the house, a snake shedding its skin and a reminder of the inevitable. Her legs were crossed, cigarette in hand, and a calico cat comfortably perched on her lap.

I stepped out of my truck and approached with care, not wanting to startle either of them. We exchanged hellos, and I told Sharon what I was doing in the middle of nowhere, Saskatchewan. She paused and eyed me cautiously before answering; I sensed she was intrigued by my request to ask some questions and take her portrait. She took a drag, then gave me a friendly nod while smoke left her mouth, her smile barely visible through the transparent curtain.

Then, something shifted. Not the wind, but Sharon's tone and demeanour. It was not evident at first. However, Sharon struggled to answer questions, occasionally going off-topic or expressing thoughts out of context. Her dates were inconsistent with follow-up questions. I can't say if Sharon was suffering from a mental disease or disorder because I didn't know. I was confused, and later on, after we said our goodbyes, it was unsettling. What she said is irrelevant. Though, I do know this: Her cat was named Kelly, and she enjoyed feeding her.

"I have no major life plans, and I enjoy the peace and quiet out here."

Sharon passed away in January of 2023. I like to believe she is still enjoying that peace and quiet she spoke about, with Kelly on her lap, an endless prairie view from those askew steps, and no plans.

Rest in peace, Sharon; it was an honour to meet you.