Have you ever been driving along in your car and out of the corner of your eye you spot a structure that captures your imagination? Well, I did.

I was cris-crossing the back-roads of the Blue Ridge mountains on my way to a nursing home far from any populated area. The facility needed assistance in the therapy department and called asking if I could see some patients today, so I packed up a thermo of coffee and away I went.

About an hour into my drive, I caught a glimpse of this stone ruins off in the distance, perched up on a knoll glistening in the morning sun. I stopped the car, pulled out my camera and hiked to where it stood. It was so quiet there, yet I wasn't that far from the road. I just stood in it's presence for a moment scanning every inch on this captivating structure. A large portion of it was engulfed in ivy, however much of it managed to escape the entanglement as if to say "Here I am". It's stone walls stood proud and majestic against the clear blue sky, yet it was only a shell of it's former self. My mind could only imagine what it must have been in it's day. I wondered who lived there, and why it's still standing. I suppose I could have stopped at the little country store two miles down and inquired about the place, but somehow I wanted to conjure up my own story. Of course, my story would be filled with intrigue and mystery of days long ago. If I had stopped and asked about the place, I wonder, would it be as grand as the story I could imagine? What do you think your story would be? IMAGINE !

As a child I spent much of my time dreaming of worlds that didn't exist. My father used to say I had my head in the clouds. I would imagine worlds where I could escape to a refuge from all the madness around me. I would often go down to the lake and sit on the dock my father built. The dock was slightly hidden behind the tall shore grasses, so I felt safe from peering eyes of any neighbors. I dangled my feet in the water and often felt small fish nibbling on my feet. I was a good swimmer and many times found myself climbing down the ladder into the clear lake water. I had learned to control my breathing so much I could spend a long time swimming underwater among the grasses and venturing out into the cool deep waters where the spring fed lake received it's source. It was a place of calm for me. It seemed to wash away anything that bothered me. The lake refreshed my spirit.

I recently had a challenge from our friend Dave to sit down and write for one hour. I could not imagine myself able to do such a thing, after all I have no writing skills. He said to forget all the rules and write from my heart. So, one day I was viewing some photos on WillowintheWind's blog and reminiscing of days gone by as a small child on the lake and my mind became flooded with visions. I returned to my computer and started writing this story down. Six hours later I took a break. Now each time I return to the story, I close my eyes and just watch the whole thing happening. I never knew I could type so fast without looking. Thank goodness for spell check.

I have been blessed by all of you who have inspired and encouraged me to believe in my heart.

Much Metta and Love to you all

This day six years ago I lost my beloved Terrell. Our lives were so entwined it was often difficult to determine who was thinking what. Of all the dreams in my life, never did I really believe I would meet such an incredible human being. One so filled with love and compassion for all humanity. One who never went a day without telling me how much he loved and appreciated our for one another, even during times of troubles. He was my rock on which I stood and the pillar upon which I leaned for support. He was my inspiration to play the flute, and we made love through the music we composed together, getting lost in the moment . He was the one who believed in me when I wanted to return to school and get a degree in Occupational Therapy. He was the hand that guided me to paint my first painting.

Even if I just fixed a sandwich for him, he would look up at me and smile and then say with so much gentleness and love" Oh , honey, what beautiful presentation, thank you so much." He appreciated life and all it had to offer. He was a seeker of truth. He would often sit for hours in total silence, but if someone needed his gentle words, he would be there for them for as long as he was needed.

Don't get me wrong, he wasn't a saint all the time. But there were not enough times that mattered.

If I was upset, he comforted me, if I needed a hug he stopped what ever he was doing to hold me.

He has given me so many beautiful memories to hold onto, yet there are still those time when I need a hug, or have difficulties with a problems, where I am reminded that he can not give them to me on this level anymore. However, he was my teacher of life, my mentor, my best friend, my lover and during the last days of his life it was my HONOR to serve him. It is because I am blessed to have shared thirty-five years with Terrell, I find the strength to continue to serve and grow and contribute with love and compassion. I know in some way he will always be here for me.

Can you remember your senior prom dress?    I sure do.

It was the morning of my Senior prom and I still had no dress to wear. This was the most important dance of the year. Every girl wants to have a new dress to wear, one that will stand out as something special.. It was a time she could feel like a princess and I was no exception. However, my parents had five children and they could not give each child a new dress or outfit every time there was an event. My father told me there was nothing wrong with the dress I wore last year, after all I only wore it once, so I did not need a new one.

I went to school that day devastated. I would be so embarrassed if all my friends saw me in the same dress again.    During school that day, the Prom was all anyone talked about all day. They talked about how they would wear their hair, the new shoes they bought and how they loved the new dress they would be wearing and so on and so on. I stayed pretty much quiet. I did not want to let anyone know I would be wearing the same dress I wore last year.  I figured a way around this dilemma. I told my friends I wasn't feeling well and wasn't sure I would be going to the Prom. Boy, I sure put a lot of importance into that dress, didn't I?  What choice did I have. I was sixteen and did not have my priorities in check. Talk about what's important in life!. It wasn't the fact of having a new dress or not, it was what my friends would think.

As I was riding home from school I began thinking about the whole thing. Should I stay home just because of that? Would staying home from the Prom be worse than wearing the same dress I wore the year before? The fact of the matter was, the dress I had last year, was lovely. How many would really notice,  and why should I even care. By the time I reached the driveway, I had decided I was going to the Prom and I would make the best of this situation. After all, it was the last  major high shool dance of the year.  I would never have this opportunity again.

I open the front door and slowly walked down the short hall to the kitchen looking for my mother and then made my way into the living room. In the middle of the living room, on my mother's dress form, was the most beautiful gown I had ever laid eyes on. My mother had taken wedding satin ,from an old job she had done, and designed and made this dress just for me. She had spent her whole day making sure I would have something special. I could not believe my eyes or my heart.

At that point I didn't care whether I went to the Prom or not, I was a Princess and I had the most wonderful mother in the world.

Some of you are too young to remember Pen Pals, but during a time long, long ago, before computers, cell phones, ipods and the like, there was a time when one actually sat down and wrote on a piece of paper. Some of you may have even seen this exhibit in museums.

It was a time during a child's schooling, when a teacher would encourage their students to pick a name of a child from another country to correspond with through writing letters. They would share stories of their families, friends, life styles and deepest thoughts, encouraging and inspiring one another. Unfortunately, one had to wait for weeks for a letter to be delivered or received, especially if their Pen Pal lived across the country or across an ocean.
 
It must have seemed forever, waiting to hear from their new friend!  Each day they probably rushed to the mailbox looking for that letter. Can you imagine the anticipation, the eagerness and the joy that came when that letter finally arrived? As soon as they opened the letter, their heart raced to find out all the events that had transpired in the lives of their new friends; then filled with excitement, and pen in hand, they sat down to share their stories. Usually, in less than a day (or two), stories were composed, written, sealed in an envelope and hurried off to the mailbox.... and so it went.

Gee!! that's funny!  Each day I get home from work and  run to my inbox. I'm  filled with anticipation and eagerness to see if a letter has arrived from my new friends from across the country and across the oceans. I can hardly wait to hear their inspiring and encouraging words and read their stories. Then I sit down to the computer to share my stories with them. Fortunately, all of this happens with just a click,  and instantly I'm there.

Do you think we might be the modern day Pen Pals?   Maybe so!   at least for now.