My Mother's Teashop

My Mother owns a teashop. She runs it with her smart and lovely English friend. It is perfectly situated in the only place outside of England appropriate for such a quaint little building, here in the wood and pasture town my father lovingly calls, The Shire. From their house I drive uphill by The Academy - the two-hundred-and-eight-year-old town high school that's made up of five or six free standing buildings arranged around a quad on the hilltop overlooking miles of forested rolling hills. The hills light on fire with the bright oranges yellows and reds of autumn every year.

The Return...

THERE AND BACK. The hero's journey. Gilgamesh, Odysseus, Jesus. So I gave it a shot. Set out with questions and realized pretty early on that the answers weren't out there waiting for me. Instead I found new questions and different answers than I was looking for. Walking across the land with a backpack and a staff gave me a new perspective to have a look through. Many people and many places. Most all of them beautiful. One thing I learned: You can't do it just once.