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© Photograph by J.T. Blatty

There's not really a place for someone like myself. It's more of a space . . . and when I say, "like myself," I'm referring to someone who has always been asked, "Are you an Army brat?" when they hear the list of towns where I've lived or have called home, never really knowing which one should be labeled as where "I'm from." But in that space of mine, there's always water, giving movement to a world that might otherwise feel claustrophobic without.

There's often another person with me, maybe two, and they might be walking a half mile or only five feet away. Whatever the case, speaking is never necessary, but when words are spoken, they are remembered well.

There's always a dog, maybe three, but at least one running off of a leash and exuding a kind of freedom I only wish I was capable of embracing.

And then there's always a mystery, an adventure, a treasure to be found, somewhere in this intersection of space and time, where today, millions of years ago, and tomorrow meet seamlessly.



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