The road itself felt like poetry as Marilyn guided every curve with Poppy. Towering trees arched overhead, transforming the drive into something almost enchanted, as though a magical adventure waited just beyond the next bend.
Then, as if the forest wanted to offer us a gift, a river otter slipped across the road before us. For a fleeting moment, our hearts were light, filled with wonder and joy at such an unexpected encounter.
Though the journey unfolded like a beautiful poem, its destination carried the weight of loss. We were traveling to the Pacific Northwest to honor the life of a dear friend whose absence would be deeply felt.
What followed was a day wrapped in quiet remembrance—a crisp chill in the air, the comforting aroma of lavender coffee, and the embrace of friends who had gathered from near and far to pay their respects. Amid the sorrow, there were moments of connection. I even signed a copy of my book farther from home than ever before, there in the Pacific Northwest.
As I look back, it is not only the sadness I remember. I remember the road. I remember the grace woven into every mile, the beauty that surrounded us, and the gentle reminder that even journeys born of grief can be filled with moments of unexpected wonder. That road, and the way it made me feel, will remain with me for a lifetime.
Forgotten Winds 