When I was a little girl, most of my childhood we lived in Jersey City, New Jersey. At one point we lived across the street from a Jewish Synagogue. I was approximately there from the ages of 9-12. I can't tell you exactly when I read 'The Diary of Anne Frank', but when I did, I know I cried. Was it before or after this place, across the street? I'm not sure. Somehow though, seeing and knowing it was there, brought me comfort. In this place we lived in, which was about 100 years old, we had...

Sometimes I miss the hills, the plains, the mountains, the red, the brown, the gold of the land that I haven't seen for a while. The times I traveled the rivers, following the swimming fish. The times I knew the Stallions, the Wolves, the Eagles, the Snakes, as my brothers and sisters. The times we bathed together in the fresh spring waters. The times we told our stories around the crinkling coals, of burned out fires. The times we listened to the hum of the land and followed her lead when she...