That moment in time will be etched in my memory forever. I can never forget the hue of the sunset, the sounds of the crashing tide, or the smell of the salty, sweet, air.

When I was little, I had really long hair, down to my butt long. But, it was straight and limp as a piece of paper. I dreamed of wavy hair, how it might transform my looks from little girl to goddess. This little Pocahontas wanted to be Jaclyn Smith.

The house felt empty, at least it did at the time. My mother and sister were out of town and my dad was out in the garage, probably tinkering with something.

To each of you:

In the darkness of the night at Aldermarsh, with my window open wide, I hear a coyote howl.  It reminds me of the loneliness I felt before this place, the longing, not understanding why.

 “Story is a search for community.” ~ Christiana Baldwin

Christiana Baldwin makes a valid point. Our Creator created us to fellowship and become members of a larger community.  Sort of a, “No man is an island.”

“Why?” All the questions I have started with this complex three-letter word. The thing about this one-word question is it requires an answer much longer than one word, such as, “yes” or “no”.  It asks for an explanation, justification, and knowledge. Sometimes, the reasoning behind “why” cannot be put into words. 

In the late fall, the rolling sand hills of western Nebraska were stunning.  Autumn days there possessed a diffused light like … it had journeyed through a soft-focus optical filter.  Abundant bluestem and buffalo grasses covered sandstone bluffs the precise color of oatmeal.