"I ran...through the wet underbrush and shadows of old trees with coiled roots. I ran...beyond the heavy mist that settled deep in my lungs. I ran...up hills and into ditches, my shoes muddy and moist.
I ran...through all that was familiar, and harsh, and cold.
Behind the barn and through the vines, I ran toward the sun...warm and filled with yellow light...fresh and clean. I ran into a field of butterflies and felt their gentle wings touch my skin.
I ran into the present...into all that is possible."
Jana Huddleston...September 2009.