Month: February 2023

One thing about growing older is if you worked hard and was careful with the money you made, you can take a few vacations. I just returned from the Mayan Riviera. Most people would say I went to Cancun though I’ve never seen the city. We go to the Moon Palace, an all inclusive, I’m glad to say I’ve never been disappointed. The beach sand is different than the beach sand of New England. I love to walk shoeless along the beach knowing my feet won’t burn. I watched the birds, smaller than my fist, and I’m a small person. They played with the tide, digging for food when it rolled out, running away as the waves once again crashed against the shore. It reminded me of how we spend so much time crashing into the waves life throws our way. Some of us run. Others stand still, fighting a future we can’t change and others work with the water hoping to make the waves wash away past hurts to bring a better world for those who will follow. I’ve run. I’ve stood still, feeling the water break around my toes only to see it return unchanged as I step away. Now I walk into the crashing waves, floating on its roiling surface, hoping my movements help the children playing on the shore. I hope their sand castles last longer than those I made. I can’t fix the past, neither can I determine the future, but with each step into the sea, I can make a difference. It may be a difference only one child will feel, but to that child it may be the difference giving her or him, or them, a life worth living. In my books I try to show how our decisions, even those that seem inconsequential, can make a difference.

It’s hard to say goodbye to characters/people you love. Though it’s been a long time, the journey has been worth the time invested. It will be difficult to say goodbye to Kahill, Peter, Becarra and Rebecca but mostly to Spirit and all the animals I’ve tried to represent. As an ambassador, I hope I haven’t failed to represent the world of those who don’t speak the languages we speak. Mere words can’t convey what a simple swish of a tail can. We take them, the beauty of a tree reaching to the heavens, as something to be expected. In my heart I know we don’t see the forest for the trees. I believe they are meant to remind us of our place. The world is larger than we imagine. A long time ago a child lay upon a boulder sitting in the woods outside her house imagining she was sailing on a ship to places where others didn’t care how expensive her cloths were. A chid who thought her sister was the strongest person on earth, her father the tallest, bravest man she would ever meet. This child couldn’t imagine a safer place than her mother’s arms. I knew with out doubt my dog would die in my defense, and I in his. I did try, but that is another story. Difficult as the concept is, I believe we are but a small part of the world we see as ours. I hope when you read the books I’ve written you see yourself in the girl, remember those who made life less difficult and those who made you feel safe. Sister World, three is coming. With my friends you’re safe.