February 17th

Dear Mom,

Somehow, I think most of the world thinks of Tennessee and imagines Nashville. And why shouldn't they?

But Tennessee is much more than a town full of music and the worst pick up line I've ever heard.

For one thing, there's Graceland. I suppose it also is full of music, but a whole house and grounds where you get to listen to an audio tour all about Elvis Presley's life can't be scoffed at. I got my picture at the front gate and then I spent an entire afternoon wandering around Graceland learning so much about Elvis.

I don't really remember you listening to his music that much, but when I started hearing it throughout the tour I recognized so many of the songs. It was a fascinating tour even if I've never been a huge Elvis fan myself. I've been listening to his songs on repeat for the last few days so I know what I've been missing.

And then there's Memphis, with it's Chocolate Molten cakes, and the views across the Mississippi.

The last few days have reminded me of two books that have greatly influenced my life so far. The first is Long Way Gone, in Nashville, trying to imagine making it as a tired grubby musician.

The way that book took pain, sorrow, regret, showing the beautiful possibilities in a life lived selfishly if you take a look around.

The loves and griefs in that book had me sobbing, clinging to the book, when I found it in one of the campground offices late last year.

Of course, the fact he lost his parents had a profound impact on me. One of the best books I've ever read.

The other, and it really couldn't be any other book, given my current location, is Christy.

I always loved how you read a chapter of a book to me every night before bed, and there were several I remember especially.

But Christy began to have more special meaning for me when Dad brought it with him when I met him in Silverthorne.

I started reading through and I found your bookmark. The same one you always used for our books. I found a few notes in the margin, especially where Miss Alice was sharing her story.

I found tear stains and I know they were yours.

It was one of the most rewarding things to read through the book and begin to see it with your eyes.

The things that caught your heart and changed you in some small way, Christy is full of them. And I've read it twice since then, beginning to see why you tried not to respond too quickly to me when we were fighting. Trying to use the silence to calm yourself and help me think through all the emotions and turmoil.

The point of all this is that I saw a video on Youtube from a girl and her mom who found the mountain village where Christy taught. I saw it, and I knew it was going to be part of my Tennessee experience.

It's a bit of a drive and I was grateful for the video because I probably would have missed it otherwise.

I was able to follow signs as I got closer, all calling it the Christy Mission. The schoolhouse was moved in 1945, and the other buildings are either in such disrepair that only the foundations still exist, or gone completely.

Still, seeing the names of my favorite characters on signs, and knowing that even in a small fictionalized way, they're real, made the whole long drive worth it.

The site is curated by the son of the woman who helped mentor Catherine Marshall in writing the book. She was the daughter of the the woman Fairlight Spencer is based on.

I realize that in the big wide world there are few people who would understand how touched I am by the opportunity to see where Miss Alice's cabin was, or run my hands over the stones of one of the foundations. I realize this is a niche, and I am a little bit ridiculous.

But something happened here. Somewhere in these mountains a brave young woman changed the lives of a bunch of mountaineers by loving them.

I suppose I hope to learn to love people that way. To love in such a way that lives are changed.

I wonder if it's possible today. I know it must be, and I know you would say it is.

The views from the hills were breathtaking. I can just imagine waking up there and breathing in the crisp air before walking up the ridge to the Spencer's cabin, or going and having coffee with Miss Alice.

Honestly, I think she would challenge everything I think I am. She would never let me stew like I have the last year, though I think she would have given me some time.

In some ways Althea reminds me of Miss Alice. She has the same practice of waiting to see what I will say, challenging the things I've always thought were true. Asking the questions that make me think about why I believe the things I believe.

I wish Jasper could have been here also, because he's somehow convinced me he likes that I'm a massive nerd, and I would have had so much fun showing him all over the hollow.

As it is I called him when I got back to where I'd parked my teardrop in a campground back down the road.

His voice sounds a little different over the phone, but it's almost more familiar than how he sounds in person.

One day, if life goes like I want it to, I will spend every day hearing his voice next to me. I'll be able to reach out and feel him, know he's real, not a phantom I've created from my imagination in my darkest hour.

One day, maybe, I have that to look forward to.

But for now it's night. Time to sleep and dream. Time to forget for a few hours that I feel rather alone.

I miss you.

I love you.

Bo