Sometimes an otherwise healthy person loses his/her essence. Like a brightly colored balloon windswept from the grasp of a child, gaining distance, its hue fades. Appearing then disappearing through the clouds, it gets increasingly harder to recognize. Soon, it seems gone.

Roughly six months ago I wrote a post about Mae, a woman with Alzheimer's Disease. I have never met her, but it was her daughter's Facebook post about her that piqued my curiosity and needed sharing. Today I am compelled to write another post about the same topic, only this time it honors someone I've known for almost 40 years. Allow me to tell you about this amazing man; if you never met him, you will wish you had. To have known his friendship, well that would have put you into an entirely different place- in both your heart and his.

Recently my daughters and I hiked in the outskirts of a small New England town. We wore no watches. Time was our friend, and our only limitation would be the setting sun.

Early in our journey, we came upon retired railroad tracks. While the rails seemed secure, the ties wore proof of nature's merciless elements. Exposed to many harsh, snowy winters, then reduced to horizontal shards of splintered wood, they were fringed with clusters of moss, lichens and an occasional flowering weed. It was anyone's guess when the very last train roared along this tree-lined passageway. 

These sleepy tracks sit idle, amidst an untold story. Aimlessly we walked onward, curious travelers with nowhere to be. How refreshing. How spontaneous. How would our adventure unfold?

Outside of my cottage, leaning against a fence, you can see a lavender bicycle. My husband gave it to me 30 years ago. While it sits idle, it serves a daily purpose that supersedes its role as a mode of transportation. 

For many years my bicycle wheels have remained flat. While I've taken it with me to every city where we've moved, it's actually never taken me anywhere. It's purpose? Well that's another story. 

Lessons can be so insidious and life-changing. So can ducks.

Five years ago, while our daughter Jennifer was dining with college friends, the topic of Mother's Day came up. Immediately realizing she had forgotten about a gift, she did what most college kids would NEVER do: order TEN FERTILIZED DUCK EGGS. 

Today is a stunning new day. The sun plays peekaboo through the clouds, the birds are harmonizing, and I embrace yet another chance to touch hearts and make a difference. Since you are reading this post, you're alive too. Your chance to also make a difference is now.

As I poured my morning coffee and watched the cream rise to the top of my mug, I thought of how my heart is so full of the amazing people who frame my life. Like my coffee, these sweet souls keep me strong, awaken me to the possibilities inherent in the glory of a fresh new start, and an opportunity to redirect our path from the daily grind. My gratitude, like the aroma, emanates and overwhelms me; the difference between ordinary and extraordinary is mine to choose. I sip and savor each and every single day, and when my cup is empty, I refresh it with the hope I've found from healing.