March 31st

Dear Mom,

I've spent the last few days seeing as much countryside in Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine as I can.

It's beautiful country right now with spring coming through.

Before I left that town in New York though, I had another great experience.

I don't suppose I should be surprised since it was such a small town, but I went to grab breakfast at a coffee shop on main street the next morning, and who should be there but the mayor and his wife. I wasn't sure she'd recognize me, but she gestured me over as soon as I walked in, and he insisted on paying for my coffee and scone.

We sat and talked for almost an hour about the town and my travels.

I could see the look of concern growing in their faces, though they tried not to show it. I wasn't sure how to reassure them that I stay pretty safe and they didn't need to worry about me.

They both seemed pretty relieved when they found out I only have a few more weeks of this, and asked if I could check in with them periodically to let them know I'm safe.

It's amazed me time and again throughout this journey how people have adopted me. We talked for about an hour and by the end I felt like I had a new set of parents watching out for me. It was delightful.

I started sending them pictures of some of the more notable places I checked out, the Trapp family homestead in Stowe, the Mount Washington Cog Railway, and the Quoddy Head Lighthouse.

I also spent some time at Cape Elizabeth. Driving up the coastal road from Massachusetts to Maine was pure delight.

Oh, and Massachusetts! I didn't get to see much of it, but I'll definitely be seeing as much of Boston as I can on the way back down.

Tomorrow I'm going to jump over the border and see what I can of Montreal. Even being this close to it is making me wish I could speak French.

Kind of like being in New Orleans made me wish I could speak Creole.

Tonight I called Jasper. He's found someone to cover his store for him while we're in Hawaii. Dad agreed it was only fair to invite him since he's become such a huge part of my life.

Meg was invited, but she declined. Apparently her and Tom have their own tiny future to prepare for, and I've only now discovered how much being an aunt, even an honorary one, means to my only child self.

It's strange to me how when I first met them they seemed almost in limbo, and how they've settled into the people they were always meant to become over the last months.

I've wondered often if Meg is aware of the part she's played in my journey through grief, or if she's blissfully just happy to be a part. She has mellowed a bit in the last several months, still pushing my comfort levels constantly, but not quite so forcefully.

But she said something the other day about the ocean and how if she'd been in the place I was in the first time she saw it, the story might have ended very differently.

I've never told her about standing ankle deep in the ocean, feeling the sand and tide pulling my feet, but somehow she seemed to know.

I am beyond grateful for the instinct that had me taking a step back to the wet packed sand out of reach of the water. For the stirrings in my heart that made taking those steps forward impossible even in the face of the hollow emptiness in my chest.

I'm still trying to decide what I'm going to do when this trip is over.

Althea has been having me journal, and if one thing has been made clear to me through this whole thing, it's that there are more people out there who need help than people to help them. It's overwhelming when you start to look for hurting people.

They're everywhere.

I don't know how I spent the first seven or eight months of this ordeal believing I was unique in my pain.

I want to help people. I want to make a difference in a world worn raw with the salt of their tears.

No idea how that's going to happen, or what my path forward looks like, but especially after talking with Jasper tonight, I think it involves moving to Oregon, being close to the people who have brought the most change.

I don't think Dad will begrudge that. He's been enjoying Deanna's visit, and I hope for their happiness with everything in me.

The aching emptiness where you should be has been decorated with flowers, words carved in the walls, each a memento of the time we had or should have had. It doesn't carry quite the sting it used to, and somehow I also don't feel guilty.

We were far from perfect, you and I, but we had something beautiful that will last the rest of my life.

I do wish you could have met Jasper though. Even Dad likes him, and Dad hasn't liked many of my boyfriends.

He is a beautiful man, with red hair that practically guarantees our kids will be gingers, and an easy smile that puts my heart at rest. He's chosen me, Mom. Chosen me again and again even through the months of no contact and the infrequent talks.

It's a wonderful thing to be chosen and adored even with all my deficiencies.

I wish you could see me happy and living a life I love.

I miss you so much.

I love you.

Bo