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there. When a house appeared with a van next to it my survival instinct fell away and my emotional side swelled up in full force.
I ended up crying and crying on the porch of Rosetta Vincent of Woodward Road. No better haven could my feet have traveled, for she took me in, called the ambulance, gave me drink and food. She let me call my family and after the ambulance people left (was traumatized more then physically hurt) took me back to my vehicle and even wanted to go hiking with me. Brave Soul!
Ib her I give a heartfelt thanks and also to the two women of the rescue squad.
I spent the next few days in sweet warm thankful sleep. Did I return from my experience a madwomen or poet? Time will tell, for it was a night of exquisite beauty with the night sky sparkling with hundreds of stars and a night of pain and trembling that set me on the edge of my sanity. In all seriousness I was slightly mad to go to an area where I was not familiar with-without a small light, map, and messages to my family and friends where I went.
Right now life is so much more precious to me and a poem by R. J. Stewart kind of says it all for me.
The path has stopped, the guide is gone
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