“The Sun will rise and set regardless.
What we choose to do with the light while it's here is up to us.
Journey wisely.”
Alexandra Elle

There comes a time in life when one looks back and takes stock of their journey. When we measure our successes and losses, and decide what and where to go next. That is where I find myself now.

If my lifeline could be compared to anything it would be like an EKG. It would be comprised of up and down impulses of varying highs and lows. Perhaps as with the saying about long periods of boredom intercepted by shorter periods of mayhem. While I’ve known more than my share of slower times I’ve also known a great deal of drama.

My dad enlisted when I was just a few months old and I spent the first twenty years of my life living in places as diverse as San Juan, Puerto Rico, and Adak, Alaska. I’ve done things and seen things, experienced things that most people can only imagine. I’ve met people from all walks of life, people from a wide swath of cultures, creeds, and religious backgrounds, and I’m the richer for it. I don’t apologize for not being strongly dogmatic in my faith system because I’ve learned that, for me, the spirit is meant to breathe and flow between my physical, mental, and emotional selves.

When I look back I see so much along my journey. I remember all the big moments with clarity. How can I not when they really are so large in my memory? They are the mile markers and sign posts along the way that say “I was here!” Things like learning to drive, graduation from high school, spending two years living and working in Yellowstone, spending eighteen months as an over-the-road trucker, attending a life and career changing writer’s convention. But interspersed around and between them, like flowers, are much smaller remembrances. The gentle reminders of kindnesses shown to me by others known and unknown to me. The moments of beauty that can suddenly appear without warning, like the sunrises I was able to witness over Lake Yellowstone at the end of my midnight shift and the moments when the clouds would briefly lift enough to give me a breathtaking glimpse of the Grand Tetons while on my way to Jackson. The sweet moments when a kitten nuzzled my neck or a rescued puppy landed a sloppy kiss on my cheek. When a little boy, in all earnestness, told me I too pretty to be that old!

One of the things I’m most grateful for was my ability to find the good and beautiful even when my mental illness was at its worst. When I was fighting myself to live just one more day. It was those moments of beauty, of grace, that allowed me to survive. In a way it was like being reborn again and again, for every day was, in truth, a new beginning. Even today, when I’m in a much better place than I was then, I still look upon each day as a new beginning with its own challenges and rewards, and I’ve found that the rewards nearly always outnumber the challenges.

So in looking back I see a long gravel road running from woodland to fields, from shores to mountains, with signposts and mile markers along each side surrounded by flowers of all sizes and hues. While all the signage has its place in life, for me the flowers are what have made the journey most worthwhile.

The End

c. 2026