I began to travel and to enjoy things that I had always wanted to do after my husband passed away four years ago. Two years went by, the fog lifted and I moved from the place I had lived to this new found home, this little Mayberry-like town surrounded by water and sunsets that bring me to my knees. And I traveled some more. After these first couple of years here, I stopped. Nights of sitting on one of the beaches and feeling the wind on my face and blowing through my hair, and thinking, I realized I wasn’t traveling to see the world necessarily, I was running so I wouldn’t have to think too much; and everywhere I went there I was. So in those last couple of years I stopped, and stared it all in the face up front close and personal. The air was cleared, and I began to see things in technicolor. I began to feel. And, taking inventory of what I had/have, I realized that something was happening, that my heart wasn’t feeling so cold anymore.