She is seventeen. Full of wide-eyed wonder.  Confidence oozing from every pore.  Full of faith -- faith that all people would be good people like her parents.  Good folks, salt of the earth types. She resembles a young filly-- waiting to break away and run free.  Gallop to the tune of her own song.  Youth and giddiness mingle and create an air of innocence.  Bright eyes wide open.

 

She is forty-one.  Eyes full of knowledge, small crease lines in the corners.  Hesitation in  her heart, yet knowing full well she can do nothing to stop the coming events.  Knowing that all people in the world will not be like them.  clucking like a mother hen, encouraging the young chick to spread her wings.  Two salty tears roll down her cheeks and land on her flowered blouse.

 

He is forty-five. Gray eyes sparkle with a mischeivious twinkle.  His chest holds a heart as big as his solid hand shake.  Permanent dimples indent the corners of his smile.  His heart is full of adventure for his little filly.  Somehow he knows she will be fine in this big exciting world -- he has instilled enough of himself in her to be able to recognize that not all people are the same.  The lump in his throat and the single tear from his eye goes un-noticed.

 

His hand on the steering wheel guides the orange crew-cab to a stop. Two pairs of small eyes peer from the top bunk bed of the striped camper, as little siblings soak in every sight and sound.  Gravel crunches under brand new running shoes.  Dust paticles mix with rays of sunshine, as the sun dips behind the mountain range.

 

There at the edge of the parking lot.  Anticipation mounts.

 

The end and the beginning merge as one.