Mom.

Dad.

Two actors who headline the Broadway pageant of our lives.  But in Stray Country may play bit parts to a cigarette.  Third billing to a dead lady down the street.  Be upstaged by a white plastic grocery sack.

Two people who may as well be in another country. 

Because they are.

This is how Stray Country works. 

It is not a country a man decides to visit.  It is not a country a woman flies or drives to.  It is not a place anyone can point to on any map.

It is a country that finds you.

Takes you far away.

Somewhere very staticky.

Somewhere between radio signals.

Somewhere beyond the range of parental radio towers.