EMILY PRATT SLATIN

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She/Her/Hers Lesbian

Retired Career Fire and EMS Lieutenant-Specialist, Writer, and Master Photographer, living in Vermont.

Somewhere Along The State Line

June 5, 2026—Middletown Springs, Vermont (Home)

There was a text from my neighbor Trish on my phone yesterday afternoon. She and Matt had invited me to join them on their boat in the morning.
I immediately accepted.

This morning, I signed a book for her before getting ready for the day. I took my Dramamine while Neil Diamond's Cracklin' Rosie played on my stereo. Certain songs still return me instantly to girls I used to be, and when I return to places specific to my childhood, I always select a playlist with music that matched the time period.

We met at Plunder Bay Marina at ten in the morning. Matt and Trish had already arrived and were preparing their boat for the day. I cannot remember the last time I was on Lake Champlain. Years ago, perhaps, when I took the ferry across.

It was the first time I had ever been on the lake outside of work. This was different. There was nowhere I needed to be and nothing I needed to do beyond enjoying the day.

Today was also the first time in my life that I had seen Fort Ticonderoga from the water. Having grown up in New York, I had visited the fort many times before, but always from land. Seeing it from the lake offered an entirely different perspective.

Matt put the boat in neutral and turned off the motor. We drifted for a while as passing boats left turbulence in their wake. We talked for a while about our lives—theirs spent entirely in Vermont, while the first forty years of mine were spent in New York. There are so many stories that come from a life of intensity and misadventure.

I still believe there are some conversations that can only happen beside campfires or in small boats set adrift on the water.

Trish reached into her canvas boat bag and pulled out Volume Two of my Dark Horse series. Holding it up where Matt could see it, she congratulated me on writing it and remarked that it takes a great deal of discipline to write a book, especially one of that size.

Somewhere along the state line I stopped feeling like I had to explain myself. It was then that I told them I had autism.

This came as no surprise to either of them.

I still measure distance emotionally instead of geographically. There are pieces of New York I will probably carry in my heart forever. Specifically the Catskills where I grew up, and the Adirondacks where I was sent to summer camp.

Matt and Trish commented that I had somehow made it through a lot of challenges in my life. And I don't really know how I feel about that, as I never saw my life as a series of challenges, but more as detours and misadventure.

I lived a very productive and established life. I was respected at work, was considered one of the best by my colleagues. And yet, I was living a life that I absolutely hated. People often confuse success and possessions with happiness. I had everything that I could ever have wanted. And yet, I was miserable.

People often ask me what changed. Everything in my life changed. The most important times in my life were when what I thought were a series of small changes ended up permanently changing the entire trajectory of our lives.

With a subtle smile and side glance, I told Matt and Trish that maybe this summer if I'm lucky, I'll have a girlfriend.

It was at that moment that I realized I had formed a lasting friendship with the neighbors. Most of the people who changed my life had no idea they were doing it.