The journal of life looked written in stone. At a parapsychology seminar, a stranger saw that I was going on a journey. Oh yes, a four hour trip to see a friend. Life is never written in stone. Magic is real.
Love is the purpose.
What you do from there is your own path on the journey. By now, I've found a new nook in the woods at the lake, in the Central Texas Hill Country. I went back to school and, in 1995, got an Associate degree in Commercial Art with Phi Theta Kappa honors, and I learned I could paint. The fairy tale chapter is over . . . I am a widow.