The Thread – Medillia’s Lament, The Novel

The thread is a mysterious, magical piece of the Universe. It’s an invisible connection of serendipitous moments and happenstance woven together to let us all know when we are following our dreams and working from a place of passion. Some of us may have multiple threads occurring at once while others may experience one long thread spanning decades throughout their life. The Thread of Medillia’s Lament began weaving its way throughout my story nearly thirty years ago when my family first visited Gerrish Island in Kittery Point, Maine. When a thread occurs in your life, you will know it. People you haven’t thought of in years will just happen to appear and be connected to something in your present life, opportunities will come knocking when you least expect them, and strangers will appear from stage left and play an intricate part in helping you  move forward toward a goal or life long dream. This post is about the thread I am experiencing as we push to publish Medillia’s Lament and how it is connecting characters from my past to opportunities in my present and near future. Threads can never be predicted or even imagined, they are a movie you’ve never seen, you just happen to be the leading role.

Photo by Rebecca Waldron

Photo by Rebecca Waldron

My family moved to Maine the summer before my sophomore year in high school. I was excited, nervous, and anxious. I knew my life would never be the same. I quickly began working at Cap’n Simeons, a restaurant overlooking Pepperell Cove. It’s from working there that I met three of the characters in my Medillia’s Lament thread.  Becky Waldron and I were counter girls. In addition to being cashiers, we scooped ice cream, shopped for produce at the market, and made the tartar sauce! Her brother, Joe Waldron, was a server and well known by all the regulars. Their dad, Johnny was and still is a local fisherman who would tilt his cap as he came into the door before heading upstairs to the Galley after a long day at sea. I remember the excitement that would fill the restaurant when we all caught word that a tuna was on one of the boats and coming into the docks just below the restaurant. It usually meant drinks for everyone and lots of laughter and cheers.

There comes a time when we all grow up and move on in life. I got married, graduated from college ( in that order) and moved away from the coast, Becky became a teacher at Mitchell in Kittery Point, and Joe became a medium. His story is a novel in its own right but for my thread, he is really where it began to get interesting. When my father took his own life, Joe was just beginning to realize his gift as a medium and healer. As he became more open and aware of the incredible transitions that were occurring, he began to receive more and more messages from beyond, some just happened to be from my dad. There were repeated attempts by my dad to reach out to me but I closed myself off to his energy. I was hurt, scarred, and vulnerable and doubtful anything good could come from it. Joe persisted and would call me saying on numerous occasions, “He wants you to write everyday.” Some times Joe would just slip into our conversations the question, “are you writing everyday.”

Decades passed and I had long lost contact with Becky and Joe. Their father, Johnny, simply became a memory from my childhood, a part of my “roots” that will forever ground me to the ocean and Kittery Point. Then one day out of the blue, a message appeared from Jody Clark asking me to consider writing a novel based on a screenplay for a movie. That was over two years ago and since that moment the thread continues to show up more and more connecting my early life at Cap’n Simeons with the Waldrons to today where I find myself writing everyday with one book published and a second weeks away. Just months ago by pure happenstance I meet Anne Donnell and Sandy Hammel. Anne, a medium and healer, just happened to be mentored by Joe Waldron and had discovered my first book on the shelves at the Kittery Trading Post. Sandy, a photographer and artist extraordinaire, just happened to know Becky Waldron. Becky was Sandy’s son tutor and teacher. Then as the writing drew to an end and the second draft of Medillia’s Lament, The Novel, came to be, I turned the corner in Market Basket and came face to face with Johnny Waldron, the fisherman.

When writing the novel, I chose people I knew to model the characters after so that I would keep their physical traits consistent and realistic. Without Johnny’s knowledge, I had been spending a lot of time writing him into one of the supporting characters of the novel, Clarence.  When I was describing Clarence, I dressed him in red suspenders, a cap, and boots. I wasn’t sure if I had imagined the suspenders or if they were authentic but for some reason I focused on them in describing his physical appearance. The writing and editing of the novel is finished and now it’s all about the intricate details of self publishing a novel. Weeks of formatting, designing, shooting images for covers and marketing, and gathering reviews, dedications, and forewords are monopolizing our time. This morning took us out on a lobster boat to capture the image for the back cover.  The rain started coming down as we slept through the night and as fog rolled in as we awoke there were a series of messages deciding if the forecasted lighting would post pone the shoot for another day.

photo by Rebecca Waldron Gervais

photo by Rebecca Waldron Gervais

Johnny met Sandy and I at the docks in Pepperrell Cove, Becky came running up as we pulled his boat tight against the dock, and Libby stood in the light drizzle with her rain jacket keeping her shielded. Sandy immediately jumped into her role and began posing Johnny. As I watched her, something inside me seemed to take over and an image of the back cover wouldn’t let go. I knew exactly what it needed to be and apologized to Sandy for being so assertive and demanding the specific shot.  She worked her magic and as the hour long cruise in the cove continued, goosebumps appeared on my arms and I knew that we were headed towards something incredibly magical. When we finished and tied back up to the dock, Sandy said she wanted to get images of all of us on this incredibly foggy morning shoot.  I whispered to Becky to capture images of Sandy taking photos and I feel incredibly lucky to share these with you, and even more excited to be able to show you Sandy’s as we begin to promote the book and launch it with press and marketing materials.

photo by Rebecca Waldron Gervais

photo by Rebecca Waldron Gervais

Libby became our quiet mascot as she watched the scene unfold on the choppy waters with bright eyes. We all watched as Sandy brought her from the background into the foreground, making her feel as though she played just a big a role as anyone else on the photo shoot. After Sandy looked through the images of Libby, she pulled away from her lens and said, “that’s the magic shot!” Hours later at home trying to capture the magic of the morning with “Clarence” and Becky, I received and email of the image Sandy was talking about.

Photo by Sandy Hamel

Photo by Sandy Hamel

I thought to myself, “this woman has talent”. Sitting here at my counter writing this post, I know in my heart that the magic of the thread is incredibly special and such an amazing gift from life to each and everyone of us. It has reunited me with some of my most favorite characters from my past and intertwined them with my passion in which I hope to build my future around. The thread has connected my past with my present and future so seamlessly that it is nothing less than beautiful and inspiring to push forward. Becky was my childhood friend, one I laughed with, and loved. I realize now that time never takes that away and as I stood with her this morning on her father’s boat, I learned that you can always pick up where you left off. It wasn’t a surprise that Becky once worked with Jody Clark’s wife, Erica, or that she was also friends with Sandy, our photographer. It was just another piece of the thread of Medillia’s Lament.  I could write a novel about this morning and all of the events that had to align for the past thirty years to make it possible but I need to pick up my daughter from cheer.  My heart is pounding with excitement to find out what the thread has in store for all of us in the near future. I guess we’ll just have to wait to find out. I have a feeling it will be a happy ending!

photo by Sandy Hamel

photo by Sandy Hamel



  • Too Delicious to Turn Down – A New Family

    Too Delicious - Two IngredientsSchool is quickly approaching and with it’s eminent arrival comes my nesting instinct to prepare meals and create homemade desserts for my family. In between inserting edits and cleaning the house, I’ve been browsing Pinterest to find somewhat healthier recipes to avoid buying processed goodies and snacks. This morning I found a Mexican rice and bean burrito bowl with shredded chicken and a Two ingredient brownie recipe. What? Could that even be possible? The Mexican dish is simmering in the crock pot on one of our hottest Summer days in Maine and as I type, Libby is piercing the brownie concoction in the oven with a fork to see if it is done.

    I can tell you, that the smell coming from the oven is delectable and is making me a half believer before I even try tasting the brownies once they are finished baking. This is what they are supposed to look like when they are done.

    Too Delicious to Turn Down

    Too Delicious to Turn Down

    We had to cut the recipe in half because when we went to the pantry, the jar of the main ingredient was almost empty. So while Libs and I pace the kitchen and I try to quench my ADD with writing another blog post, I thought I could offer you up the ingredients and directions and give you the opportunity to add one of the easiest desserts to your repertoire that I’ve ever encountered.

    The two ingredients are as follows;

    1 cup Nutella & 4 large eggs

    Crack the eggs into a mixing bowl and beat them for a VERY long time, 8 – 10 minutes, until they are very lite in color and have expanded. Slowly add your Nutella as you continue to mix. If it is cold and hard you may want to microwave it for 10 – 20 seconds first to make it easier to combine.  Grease a 8 x 8 pan and dust with flour. Pour your mixture into the pan and bake for 25 minutes or until a fork pulls out of the center completely clean.

    We just took our pan from the oven and it is sitting, cooling away while we wait to garnish it with powdered sugar and fresh raspberries. We haven’t tasted it cooked, but Libby had no problem cleaning off the beaters and licking the bowl. It was incredibly quick and easy, Libby completed the entire project with only minor supervision. I’m thinking this will be a great help when I’m sticking to my gluten free diet and getting it done.brownie pie Let us know how it goes for you if you decide to try them as well. We would love to see your comments below.

     



  • Chicago Skyline – Medillia’s Lament

    chicago_fireworks-copy“It was hard for Kristen to imagine that John and Kevin had never really celebrated the fourth of July as kids. She loved watching their faces react as if it was truly the first time they had ever seen fireworks. It brought her just as much joy seeing their faces light up as it did when the Chicago skyline filled with starbursts, peonies, horse tails and rings of stars.” Medillia’s Lament, The Novel

    I’ve been spending a lot of time in Chicago and in Kittery Point this week polishing up Medillia’s Lament as I finish inserting edits and working on the design and templates of the interior of the book. The house is still and dark except for the light of my laptop and as the rest of the house sleeps I grow anxious and excited knowing that Medillia’s Lament is so very close to coming alive and becoming its own identity. It’s hard not to remember reading the screenplay for the very first time more than two years ago. I remember how it felt in my hands, the pillows behind my back pressed up against the wall, as I lay quietly reading while the girls and Aaron were asleep in their rooms. A lot has changed in my own life since I first journeyed to a magical island in Maine and met John, Clarence, Sarah, and Mary.

    When I first read the screenplay I hadn’t met my husband or even knew that he existed. I had just seemed to get the hang of being a single mom for the second time in my life and the overwhelming feeling that had engulfed me after we separated had just started to dissipate and hope had just begun finding a way back into my world. Jody came out of left field, an email asking if I would consider writing for him, turning his screenplay into a novel. It seemed almost magical itself in the way the story of Medillia’s Lament, The Novel unfolded and became a entity of its own. Since that night of reading the screenplay for the first time, I have dated, become engaged, bought a farm, and gotten married. I have released a lot of baggage from my life and I have come to a place where I choose happiness and love more often than not. More than anything else, I have come out of the closet and proclaimed that I am a writer and not just dreaming of a day that I might be able to call myself one.

    This is the sweet spot, the few moments before a project is completed and released to the public. Only a handful of people have read the book and its success or failure on a measurable note is still to be determined. Medillia’s Lament  carries the possibility of becoming anything that we want to dream it to be and for me that’s where the true magic begins. It’s with our excitement, faith, and perseverance that it will rise or fall in public opinion but in this moment that I sit here and type while the rest of the house sleeps, it’s still just waiting to be. I’m thankful and proud and I’m looking forward to being able to share it with our friends, family, and neighbors and watching to see if they like it, fall in love with the characters, and want to pass it along to someone they might know.  So as my lids become heavier and beg for bed, I’ll just imagine this sweet spot becoming a little bit brighter and bigger as people begin to read Medillia’s Lament and fall in love with it, just as I did.



  • A New Love – A New Farm

    A stolen kiss from Prancer

    A stolen kiss from Prancer

    It’s been weeks since Noel and Prancer (Sherlock) were brought to our farm. It’s always a bittersweet moment when people come to drop off their beloved animals for various reasons. We tried to keep our excitement from bubbling over as we are well aware of the heart break and torment the individual is experiencing as they drop off their loves and say goodbye for perhaps the last time. We had intended to keep the new goats separate from our four goats by a gate so that they could get to know each other slowly, and when they felt comfortable we would let them all be together. Within minutes of getting them into their stall and watching them investigate the pasture and move toward the gate to rub noses with our goats we decided to take the metal divider down so they could mingle.

    It was another twist of fate which brought Comet and Noel back together again. We discovered that they are actually brother and sister and without knowing that when we agreed to take her and Prancer we couldn’t be happier with our decision. Days before they arrived, Libby and I spent hours in the barn emptying the second stall of debris leftover from moving into the farm. After Libby worked by my side for the day without complaining I asked Kyle if it would be okay to let her choose the new goats’ names. He answered,”of course.”  Noel kept her name as Libby reasoned it fit in nicely with Jingle’s name and Sherlock quickly became, Prancer, so he would fit in with the other reindeer names. So now our goats resemble a herd and when we call them by name it goes a little like this, “Jingle, Noel, Comet, Rudolph, Dasher, and Prancer.” Our intent was never to fill an entire sleigh with deer but it seems we are headed that way.

    I caught the image above of Libby stealing a kiss from Prancer this morning as we finished opening up and  cleaning the barn. Neither of them were posing, Libby had forgotten to take off her horseback riding helmet as she changed water and filled the chicken feed. Prancer has quickly become the greeter of the bunch and is often the first one out of the barn when we pull into the driveway or sticking his head through the slot of the stall door when we enter the barn. He seems to have connected with us as quick as Noel has reacquainted herself with her brother, Comet. There’s a love in our barn that’s hard to describe, even imagine if you’ve never taken care of animals. It’s quiet and simple and fills the space with a feeling of warmth and joy.  Soon after I stole this moment from the two, the barn door opened and my mom came in.  She reminded us that she had grown up on a farm and was excited to jump back in and help out with the animals. I rested on the large shop broom and said that some of my favorite moments at home are found in our barn with the animals.

    We’ve found a new love in Prancer and Noel, our newest additions to the farm. It’s a sweet love that makes our home even brighter. Libby came out from the stall and shared with my Mom that we have three new baby swallows in the nest in the first goat stall. We leaned over the door and saw their little beaks appear from the top of the nest, chirping for their mother and their food. I never had animals growing up. I didn’t get my first cat until I was in eighth grade, and my first dog until after my second divorce. But somehow the animals keep finding me, finding us and filling our home and farm with more love than I could have ever imagined.

     



  • Not the cover – Medillia’s Lament

    path to the oceanJohn took a step towards the bush and reached out his finger. He touched one of the thorns and immediately felt the quick, sharp pierce as a tiny droplet of blood appeared on his finger. He covered his hand with his sleeve and pushed through the blackberry bush and onto the hidden path. A bed of fallen needles cushioned his steps as the heavy scent of pine filled his nose. The sun broke through the branches and occasionally caught John in its grasp. His stride quickened and his need to come to the end of the path became greater with each step.  He felt as though he were coming home to a place he had only once dreamed of. It was a strange sensation, especially for someone who had grown up in foster homes all of his life. The narrow path opened up at the top of a cove. John stepped up and out of the woods onto a knoll of beach pebbles, which had been pushed up high onto the shore by a storm. His feet shifted among the stones, and his footing became unsure. As John looked up, his breath was taken from him. He had never seen water like this. Medillia’s Lament  pg. 133

    ******

    I asked Sandy if she had ever taken the path to the left of the gatehouse. She shook her head no. Her camera hung around her neck, ready and waiting. I wasn’t even double digits when I had first hiked through the woods to the back beach. I remember the magic I felt when the trail ended and emptied up onto the rocky beach to far left of the pier. The ocean seemed bigger than life to me back than, as it held some mysterious power over me. The flies and mosquitoes were in full force as I held Sandy’s bag like her production assistant and showed her to the spot I had imagined when writing the above scene for Medillia’s Lament. Our progress was slowed by Sandy’s moments of inspiration as she remarked on how the early morning sun was catching on the trees and undergrowth.  I felt like I was back in high school or college, meeting new mentors, learning large about things in life I only dreamed about taking part in.

    We spent two hours this morning at Fort Foster following the scenes in Medillia’s Lament, searching for the perfect cover that would do justice to Jody’s original screenplay, the bones of the novel, and compel people to pick up a copy from countless others on the shelves. I think that we’ve found one, hours later back at home. Sandy and I have been texting back and forth as we first chose a handful of images taken from this morning and then begun the creative process of “what if” we tweaked the image, tone, or color this way. It was inspiring for me to watch another individual’s expression as they became drawn into the story like I had when Jody first had me read it for consideration. I watched the same expressions grow on my husband’s face as he sat on our couch with the novel when the rough draft had been finished.

    We scoped out spots to photograph the supporting character, Clarence, a.k.a Johnny Waldron from Kittery Point. I first met him when I worked at Cap’n Simeons in high school and college. He has always represented the quintessential lobster man from Maine and was the only choice to shape Clarence from both physically and emotionally. We will be using his photo for the back cover of the novel. I’m incredibly thankful to be able to tie in a piece of my youth to Medillia’s Lament and connect it to one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been.

    This is my sweet spot in writing and publishing. It’s that moment when the project is on the verge of leaving your hands and becoming fair game for the whole entire world to enjoy, critique, and develop their own opinions about its worth. The excitement of knowing that the endless hours you have devoted and contributed are soon to be realized by more people than yourself and partners can be overwhelming. It’s that feeling you get at the first crest of a roller coaster. You know what’s coming, it scares the hell out of you but you choose to take the ride anyways. I’m incredibly proud of Medillia’s Lament and feel that it has the potential to affect many. I have no expectations for its success but I will also not limit its ability to grow larger in its scope than Jody and I could ever imagine.

    We are just weeks away from the first book being in our hands and available for sale. I’m hoping for those of you lucky enough to live in either Chicago or Maine that it will bring you a little bit closer to home and offer you some of the magic that life has to offer.



  • Sweet Smell of Bovine – A New Farm

    The sweet smell of bovine brought me back to White River Junction, the dirt highway my family’s car would fly over to reach my grandmother’s camp in Vermont.bovine The blue skies dappled with white wisps of clouds transcended time and I found myself thinking as I had then, simply with wonder. Ruby’s tail wagged back and forth as we walked along Witchtrot Road discovering new sights and scents. Slack appeared in her leash as we became farther away from our farm. As we came around a corner, we happened upon the three cows that everyone knows. I stood and stared into one of the cow’s eyes, daring it to say something to me, anything. Cars and trucks zoomed past us and I pulled Ruby in closer to me to protect her from any unwanted accidents. The cow looked away, bored and uninterested in either myself or my dog.

    In a blink of an eye, I was back in my own age, anchored by thoughts, worries, and lists of life’s little things that needed to be accomplished for our home, children, work, animals, and unfinished writing projects. I looked down at Ruby and felt proud that she was becoming a “good dog”. Our early morning and evening walks had transformed her into a more calm, obedient, and desired type of dog. Knowing it had little or nothing to do with Ruby’s temperament and more with our unified and focused attention making sure we exercised and played with her each day, made me giggle to myself.

    The old stone walls and fields loomed over us as we continued on our way. Cars and trucks continued to pass. An old friend waved as I happened to look up and catch her eye. I had met her when my son was little, the center of my life, and now years later it seems as if that was only last week. So much of the life that used to be me has since faded, become a distant memory. I could never have imagined that my life would be what it is today, in the moments from when our boys played ball together. Ruby trotted along by my side, her head slightly beyond my feet. It was almost as if she knew where I wanted to take her. The dirt road appeared around the bend at the top of the hill and we turned left onto it. The sides of the road closed in and ruts for each tire grew deeper as the tall green grass sprouted in between them.  Lilly pads and ferns emerged and the air seemed lighter. Ruby’s step quickened and I skipped along to keep up with her excitement. I undid her leash and threw a stick into the pond. It was deeper than I imagined and she made her way out to her belly then stopped. She looked back at me and asked for permission. She wanted to know if it was okay.

    Kyle texted me and I shared that I was going to let Ruby swim for a bit.

    Swim dog

    Swim dog

    I’ve gotten used to the attention he showers me with. I’m grateful for the way he holds my soul and nourishes it with such careful consideration. It seems to be his gift, to love and be loved. He has an innate ability to hold people in their highest places and treat them as they deserve to be. I’m lucky enough to be the one he loves and reaches out to when he is excited, happy, unsure, reflective, and in a state of wonder. Ruby splashed at a lily pad with her paw and made her way back to the road. I attached her leash and put my phone in my pocket. We made our way up the dirt road to Witchtrot and headed home. She moved at a much slower pace and we took our time walking through the sunshine and meandering views of stone walls, farms, and wildflowers. I found myself happy to be living and breathing today, happy to be with Ruby, and happy to have found the sweet smell of bovine.



  • It’s Your Life – A Little Lift

    I can only imagine the beauty that surrounds him as he stands on the edge of the river and cast his fly onto the surface of the cool Colorado waters.

    photo by Aaron Ares

    photo by Aaron Ares

    Somewhere from my teen years I pull images from the movie, A River Runs Through It, and picture him standing in the water slowly casting and pulling back his line, making it dance, on the waters surface. He has always had a love for nature and we often spent time walking down to the pond at the end of the road or at the beach. He had a love of fishing from the time he could walk and quickly demonstrated a knowledge of which lures and bait to use in salt water when the stripers and bluefish were running. Fishing runs in his father’s veins, and now it seems to run just as strong in my son’s.

    He has done what I chose not to do. Instead of getting married young and starting a family and career, he has taken off thousands of miles from home on the adventure of a lifetime. There’s a part of me that has always wanted him to follow the traditional route, attend a strong school,  build a career, and then grow a family but then there’s the part of me that runs in his veins.  The part of me that is always looking for the next grand adventure, that wants to make something out of nothing, and is determined to prove that I can do what others may only dream of attempting. It’s the part of me that has always brought the most joy in my life but at the same time also the most uncertainty. Choosing to travel off the beaten path brings with it opportunities and experiences that are priceless and invaluable, it also brings with it an accelerated course in learning how to handle adversity, obstacles, and challenges in life. It’s not always an easy road to go and as a mom who has chosen to travel it herself, watching seems even harder than being there in the throes of making my own way.

    AaronboySometimes I still think of him as being that little boy, needing my help navigating large crowds, building incredible lego creations from heaps of bricks poured out on his floor, and hitting it out of the park at Aggie’s field. Sometimes I want to pave the way for him, chopping down obstacles, smoothing out ripples, and delivering opportunities when there are none, but I know that I can’t. I know that he wouldn’t want me to, and he doesn’t. He has his own plan, and his own way of looking at the world, and his own way of writing his story. It’s his story, not mine.

    All I can do is to be here when he reaches out for me, to listen and offer advice without expectation or judgement, to celebrate in his triumphs, and love him more in his defeats. This morning I found myself with a group of individuals from my past. I had received an unexpected invitation to join them as a guest speaker and share about Medillia’s Lament and how it came to be and where it is going. I was excited to see everyone again. For some, it had been five years since I last saw them. The opportunity to promote the book before it is released was a gift and one I wanted to seize. Life always seems to deliver what we need when we need it, and this morning was no different. One of the first things Linda asked me when she greeted me was, “How is your son.” I smiled. He is thousands of miles away living in Colorado going to school and becoming who he was always meant to be.

    I shared with her how he had moved out West and was living the life most boys dream of living and some men regret that they hadn’t. She rested her hand on my shoulder and reassured me that no matter how old our children get they will always be ours and we will always worry and want the best for them. She seemed to know intuitively that even though Aaron is happy and doing well that I still worry and want life to be the best it can be for him. I spoke about the book, how it came to be, where I hope it is going, and what I want the next steps to be in my life as a writer and publisher. But as I stood in front of everyone sharing my story, my heart was tied to my son’s. There was someone in the group that had once shared he had gone out West after high school and did what Aaron is doing. I know in my heart that each of us are destined for our very own adventure in life packed with thrills, chills, and whirlwinds, but somehow watching your child begin theirs feels a little more nerve racking and terrifying than starring in our own.

    I found a quote on Pinterest this week that seems to sum it up best, “We can’t fix people or their situations for them, but we can love them.” When I stumbled upon this quote it made me pause. There were plenty of times in my life when I felt like I needed fixing or people wanted to fix me, but if we allow ourselves to think that way it would imply that we are all broken instead of us just being human. We were all born human and we were all destined to make mistakes, choices, and lead our own lives to the best of our abilities. To feel as though we can “fix” our children’s lives or make it easier for them takes away the experiences needed for them to grow into the best versions of themselves. The version that will make them most ready to live a happy, fulfilled life, being who they were always meant to be.

    So here I sit thousands of miles away, living my life while he creates his own, quickly realizing that forty-three is not as old as I once may have thought it to be.  Having experienced my first child leave the nest with two younger sisters quickly on his heels, I’ve been given the opportunity to seize back a little of myself and make choices of my own.  I’ve become more of a secondary support role, shifted to the sideline for now, as he takes the reins and begins to figure out what works best for him and what that will look like in a place he’s only ever dreamed of living.

    photo by Aaron Ares

    photo by Aaron Ares

    He sent me a picture the other day, a prize catch he had retrieved from the river. The image didn’t include his face but somehow I saw it standing above him, smiling with content and pride. He has landed on his feet, miles from home, on adventure of a lifetime just begging him to take his next step. As I watch from home and contemplate my next step in my own adventure, I hope he knows just how very proud of him I am for taking a road most never seem to find. I admire his courage and strength in following his own heart and doing what he feels is right. He is my son, and will always be my son. I love him more than I ever thought possible and I’m excited to sit back and watch where his journey will ultimately take him.