“The way home has always been there. It has stretched out in front of me but I have not had the eyes to see it. The way home is a broad, dusty road. There are curves and overgrown places. Forest pathways and granite cliffs. The way home is always lit—by sunlight, by moon light, by star gleam and by an open heart. The way home is quiet. It is gleaming in front of me even as I write these words.”
—Laura Davis