Sub Zero

NOTE: The "Embrace the Wonder" series features excerpts from a collaborative book/music project in progress. John Droese is the main author. However, there are other contributors whose stories would also be featured in this category...

I have always wanted to write a book but the fear of failure keeps me out of the game. Every time I show someone one of my stories, the slightest, not-so-favorable, comment can send me running to the backyard to bury my work… far out of the world’s view. Anyway, I have a good job that pays the bills. If I save my money wisely, I think I can retire early and then really start living. Who says 55 or 60 is too late to start enjoying life? Well, I guess maybe those people who only live to be 54. There is no time for thinking about this stuff now. There is a more pressing issue at hand.

I’m going camping. My friend Tony and I drive to (Flagstaff, Arizona) from (Miami, Florida), hoping to escape the routine of life for a little while. As we make our way through route 517, we see deep secluded woods on both sides of the road. I tell Tony to pull off so that we could try and find a place to set up camp. Pointing to patches of snow on the ground, Tony asks, “John, you think it gets cold around here at night?”
“No way Man!” I reply. It’s like 75 degrees.” Seeing the look of concern on his face, I add, “Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t know about this John,” he complains.
“Look, it’s March, winter is over!” I state. (Spoken like a true Miami boy where to me, winter was officially from December 25th to January 2nd or something like that.“)
John we are pretty far out here in the woods,” says Tony. “You mean you’re not afraid of some wild animal dragging you off into the dark?”
“Don’t be a wuss, we are men! We fear nothing” I reply. (Now, I don’t really know if my words actually eased his mind; but, we set up the tent anyway and get ready for nightfall).
As darkness creeps in, I feel a chill in the air; but I’m not worried about it. I roll out my sleeping bag. I had bought it at the Salvation Army for two dollars just for this trip. It has definitely seen better days! I look over at Tony and he is busy fluffing up a pillow and spreading out a thin blanket.

“Tony, what are you doing? Where is your sleeping bag?”
“Aw John, I don’t have one.” He replies. “I think this blanket will do the trick.”

Outside, the tent is now smothered in a black veil. Growing up in the city, I never knew it could ever get this dark. I take a moment to look up at the sky and comment loudly to Tony, “Man, there sure are a lot of stars.” But this moment is short lived as Tony yells from inside the tent.
“John! It’s kind of getting cold, don’t you think?” (He was right. It was cold and seemed to be getting colder by the second).“Tony” I say, trying to sound unfazed by the situation. “Let’s just sleep in our clothes. I don’t think it will be a problem.” To me, this is a good, so I climb into my sleeping bag and Tony tucks himself into his blanket, wearing (jeans, a shirt, a sweat shirt a leather jacket with his socks and shoes on). Soon, it starts to get really cold. We grab our denim jackets and wrap them around our heads.

From my corner of our tent, I could hear Tony shivering. “Hey, let’s try and get some sleep. Just close your eyes; next thing you know we’ll wake up and this will all be over.”
Under his breath, I hear him say “Yeah right.” I must have drifted off, because suddenly, a rustling in the tent startles me. I open my eyes(not quite sure if I’m awake or still asleep and dreaming). Then I hear the zip, zip, zip, of the tent’s zipper opening, followed by Tony, who is heading for the exit.

“Tony where are you going?”
“Screw this! I’m getting in the car and turning on the friggin’ heat.”
“Come on man, don’t leave me here alone to be dragged off by some crazy animal” I plead jokingly.
“John, I thought you were not afraid of anything” he snaps. Now I wish I hadn’t been so smug earlier. Tony disappears into the night and moments later, I hear his car engine roaring to life. I attempt to get up and realize that my body is numb. Without even trying to get out of my sleeping bag, I get on my feet and hop out of the tent all the way into the car. It takes a couple minutes for the heat to start blowing.

“I’m only going to keep it on for about 15 minutes; just to warm up and then I’ll turn it off” says Tony. I nod. Next thing I know, I’m waking up; the sun is shinning, Tony is sleeping; the car is still running!

Well, we survived! We went camping to experience the wonders of the great outdoors and ended up sleeping in the car. However, I learned a valuable lesson…

Our greatest achievements can make for great stories, but our failures can make for even better ones. And as far as I’m concerned, it’s okay to fail as long as you never stop trying.

When I get home, I think I’ll go out back to dig up a few of my stories and show them around. I’ll just have to make sure that there’s a car with a good heater near by just in case I get a chilly response-;)

Back to my Motherland

Note:This is an excerpt from Home: A Trip Down Memory Lane(2); a sequel to Home.

I spent the first couple days entertaining family members who had come to see me. We mused over the past and they fired a bunch of questions at me “Is the electricity on all the time in America?” asked my niece. “Pretty much” I replied. My elderly uncle was so intrigued that we had nonstop access to running water.

A few days before Christmas, I visited the homes of some of my childhood friends, hoping that I’d at least run into a few who had returned to celebrate the holidays. The ones I really wanted to see were not around. Those that were at home asked if I had brought them presents. One in particular asked me for cigarettes. I grew tired of being harassed for one favor or another and decided to spend the rest of my visit indoors. I was stunned beyond words about all the changes that had taken place! What was I thinking? I should have realized that time (or people for that matter) waits for no man! Suddenly, I felt like I was swimming around in a future that had completely drowned my past. And like a child without his mother, I wanted to return to my home away from home. I longed for my children. I longed for my husband.

As the plane flew higher up into the clouds away from the west coast of Africa, a momentary feeling of sadness and nostalgia overwhelmed me. I wondered if I'd ever see my mother alive again. I wondered if I would ever set foot on my native soil. I wondered if my children would someday want to trace the roots of my family tree back to Nigeria. And somewhere in time between my last teardrop and the majestic view of the sun fading to a thin red line, I had an epiphany...Read full story here

Treasure

This is an excerpt from "Embrace the Wonder," a collaborative book/music project in progress...

Forty miles to the east of Phoenix, there is a land of beauty and legend known as the Superstition Wilderness. Somewhere in this vast and rugged land, many Arizonans believe there is a hidden treasure of gold. For over a hundred years, the legend of the Dutchman’s Mine has spawned intrigue and given rise to treasure hunters who fantasized and dreamed of the old west.

It’s a fact that the Dutchman used to venture out into this wilderness with his mule and return with his sacks filled with gold( few pieces of which are still around today and whose chemical composition matches no known gold mine in the world.) This is what gives hope to the faithful.

Many seekers return day after day; some have abandoned civilization altogether in order to live out there among the saguaro cactus and rattlesnakes until they find their treasure. But it's not just gold they seek. They long for simple times and dream of days gone by. Days when cowboys rode tall in their saddles and slept outdoors under the stars of the wild frontier.

As for me, I’m just a city slicker looking for some adventure. Each time I’m out there, I search with child-like exuberance. Didn’t we all at one time dream of finding some treasure such as a pirate’s buried chest or a dinosaur bone? Isn't it every child’s fantasy to unearth what’s lost or hidden?

The Dutchman found his treasure and left few clues to its location. He wanted us to look for it. On his death bed, he not only confessed to killing two Indians who were mining the gold when he first came upon it, he also offered riddles and drawings which no one has yet deciphered to date. In town, you could purchase several varieties of treasure maps that will only leave you five dollars poorer, standing under the hot sun scratching your head. Occasionally the streams give up a small nugget or enough gold dust to pay for a few drinks at the saloon near by, where you could feel like you’ve stepped back in time. Out front, horses are tied to posts, and men-with six shooters on their sides and spurs on their boots walk through the swinging doors with the earth still under their fingernails from a long day of searching.

One day, I headed out past Weaver’s Needle, a towering smooth rock that gives some reference when you’re out wandering through the mesmerizing landscape. It was well over one hundred degrees and there wasn't a single shade tree in sight. I’d never been out this far before, but something told me to go on. I climbed hills and descended into valleys; moved rocks and chipped away at boulders to no avail. Then suddenly, a reflection caught my eye. A hundred yards up the side of a rocky outcropping, I could see a metallic glimmer. I climbed furiously, slipping and sliding back two steps for every three I took forward. My heart pounded with anticipation. My eyes burned as sweat dripped down my face. Somehow, I managed to get there. A few swipes with my pick axe, and the shining element was loose. In my hand lay a nugget the size of a nickeL. But it seemed as big as the gold of El Dorado. This child has found his buried treasure at last...at least enough to keep him coming back to dig for whatever is hidden by mystery and buried in legend. I’ll be back next weekend just like everyone else, who is trying to discover the old minier's secret. However, a part of me hopes that the mother lode is never found. I don’t need the gold that badly. It’s the adventure I seek. The mystery of the past and the promise of the future, which keeps man’s dreams alive like that of a child. That’s the real treasure. So let the Dutchman have his way. Let the search continue...

To Stand Alone

NOTE: The "Embrace the Wonder" series features excerpts from a collaborative book/music project in progress. John Droese is the main author. However, there are other contributors whose stories would also be featured in this category...

My mom kept telling me that it was an important part of my recovery process. It was my first day back at good old Killian High school since the diagnosis. Six weeks of chemotherapy...the doctors say remission and I was supposed to pick up right where I had left off. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t very happy before all this cancer stuff. I had never been asked out by a boy, or to sleep over at a girl friend’s house. Why would they?

I was a shy 16 year-old girl with terrible skin. To make matters worse, I was thirty pounds overweight (the treatment made me lose twenty of that and I didn’t complain). The way I saw it, you were either important and everyone noticed you, or you weren’t. I guess that explains why no one made fun of me or tried to befriend me. I was not important enough to be noticed. So, I became invisible.

Well, on that day, I became visible to the naked eye...

The minute I stepped into homeroom, everyone started staring at me. I took an empty seat near the door just in case I needed a quick get away.

The word for the day, was WIG! It seemed to circle the room in the hushed whispers of the beautiful. I used to have long and curly blonde hair. But the cancer had to disarm me of the one thing I didn’t hate about me. I had bought a wig to try and have some dignity. Little did I know that it would turn out to be a bad idea...

Mr. Clark tried to kick things off by asking everyone to welcome me back to class. I thought, Isn’t that sweet! Not one get well card. Not one single visitor while I was in the hospital. And now, I’m supposed to believe that they care? Mr. Clark was jotting down some Algebra problems on the board; I could feel my vanishing beginning, when John Turner quickly yanked off my wig. I couldn’t believe it!

"Hey look! It’s Kojak’s sister." He smirked. All eyes were on me. The room seemed to spin in slow motion as it filled with laughter. In the sea of faces, I could see it. I could see it clearly. They didn’t care about me. They were having a good old time at my expense. They were thumbing their noses at me because they didn’t have it and I did. At that moment in time, I wished the cancer had been stronger. I wished it had put up a better fight and won the war. I wished it had taken my life because, I wouldn’t be such a laughing stock!

As Mr. Clark tried to quiet the class, I saw Billy Cross (one of the popular kids) raise his hand. For a minute, I thought maybe he was going to stick up for me. But all he wanted was a bathroom break. I grabbed my wig, threw it back on and put on my best game face. I couldn’t let them know how much I was hurting inside. I couldn’t let them win. I closed my eyes as tightly as possible and tried to hold back the tears. Suddenly the room grew silent as if it were taking a deep breath. I opened my eyes and followed everyone’s’ stare. Standing in the doorway, was Billy. He had shaved his head.

That was it. I lost it! The tears started streaming down my face. The floodgates were open and I started crying uncontrollably.

On his way back to his seat, Billy leaned in and whispered. "Why don’t they know? Why don’t the strong, the healthy, the pretty, the rich know? Unless they use their gifts to protect the weak and not punish them, they are the ones who are alone." Reaching up to grab my wig, he said, "You don’t need this. You don’t need to stand-alone. I will stand with you."

Before heading to my next class, I glanced around the room and realized that each and every one of those kids is really no different from me. I realized that as individuals, we all have one thing in common. We all have one form of cancer or another. Fear! Self centered meanness! Hatred! Jealousy! I also realized that there are times when we must stand together in order to fight or beat our "cancer."

A Little Dirt

This is an excerpt from "Embrace the wonder," a collaborative book/cd project in progress...

A paradigm is your belief system. The way you know things to be. Everything you see or do is filtered through your paradigm, thus giving it meaning. And when you have a paradigm shift, it instantly changes the way you see things.

As a boy, I grew up in a poor household. Mama said that my Daddy left right after I was born. So having to raise a family of four, she did the best she could. I had very old, worn out, hand-me down clothes. And most days, I walked to school unwashed and dirty. To say that I had low self-esteem is an understatement. I had absolutely none! I did poorly in school and saw myself as a loser. What a PARADIGM for a boy my age to see the world!

January 28th, 1974, was a day I will never forget for as long as I live. I was about seven years old and a second grader in Mrs. Chaney's class. On this particular day, she decided that we needed to focus on science. We started off by studying different kinds of rocks, stones, and gems. As usual, everything was moving along… I sat quietly in my corner; content and really didn’t care or want to participate. Next, we transitioned to Language Arts. She asked us to compare other classmates to the stones we had just learned about. We were all silent for about a minute or so. Little heads turned from side to side, back and forth. Suddenly, a hand went up...

"Lisa's eyes are blue like a Sapphire".
"Very good Alvin." replied Mrs. Chaney. She took the Sapphire from her table, walked over to Lisa and placed it on her desk.
"Joey’s hair is ruby red," added another student.
"Excellent." Again, she strolled over to Joey and positioned the Ruby on his desk. This went on until most of the obvious comparisons had been made.

"Does anyone else have a comparison he or she would like to share with the class?"
I saw Mikey Taylor’s hand go up and immediately thought... Uh –oh. Mikey was the class wise guy; always going for a laugh and even Mrs. Chaney was aware of this.
"Well, well, pay attention class, I believe little Mikey has something reeeeaally important to say. Yes, Mikey?"
"That old rock on the end there is like Timmy, because both are dirty."
Instantly, the room erupted into a buzzing laughter. I dropped my head and stared at the floor. I just wanted to crawl under my desk, never to emerge again. I figured Mrs. Chaney would sense my hurt and quiet the room. But to my disbelief, she blurted, "Mikey, I think you are absolutely correct!" She grabbed the filthy rock and headed in my direction… Then it happened! It didn’t seem like a moment that would change me forever, but it did! Half way down to my desk, Mrs. Chaney stopped and smiled at me. She raised her hand and threw that rock on the ground, breaking it in two. The room was filled with ooh’s and ahh’s as she held up both pieces. Purple light radiated from them and danced around the room revealing the most beautiful crystal formation any of us had ever seen. There was utter silence as we all gazed at this dazzling discovery. Mrs. Chaney finally made it to my desk; handed me the rocks and said, "Don’t be so quick to judge a rock by a little dirt." She then picked me up and added, "underneath that dirty rock, there just may be a beautiful treasure waiting to be discovered, just like Timey!"

As the class began to file out for recess, everyone stopped at my desk to hold and admire the rocks as if they were important and magical. It did take me awhile to crack that hard outer shell. However, I realized that one day, I too would be beautiful, important and discover that magical treasure within me. I never even told her. Mrs. Chaney, you changed my whole world in a single moment. THANK YOU!

-John Droese-

Not my Style

This is an excerpt from "Embrace the Wonder," a collaborative book/music project in progress...

I had never lost my wallet before, but it happened just the other night. After chugging a couple pitchers of tap beer and some tequila shots, I stumbled out the back door of my local dive bar, flat out of my senses. See, Casey and her fancy lawyers had taken everything from me save for the clothes on my back and a pocket full of some worthless change. Climbing out of my twin sized bed each morning was turning into a big production. My car was one speed bump away from total disintegration. Eating out, meant Jack in the Box or Taco Bell. Here I was... a 47-year-old man still living at home in his mother's basement; clinging to a dead end job that offered zero promise of a lifestyle upgrade. So, I began to entertain some pretty crazy ideas. It wasn't like me to drink that much; but I was sitting on the edge, getting ready to leap into some illegal avenue of opportunity. If I could get my hands on a pistol… I thought, the liquor store across the street from the pub would be easy pickings. I could be in and out in thirty seconds with enough cash to set me straight for a while. What the hell was I thinking? It just wasn't me. It's not my style…but it would be easy. I hoped it was just the liquor thinking!

I woke up the next morning with a mother of a Saturday hangover, and those thoughts still on my mind. Saturday night would mean a big score at the liquor store, I kept telling myself. After a quick shower and a dose of aspirin, I realized it was missing! My wallet (with two credit cards and two week's pay) was gone! My heart started to pound as my pulse raced. How could this happen to me at a time like this? I zoomed back to the pub like an Indy race car with a stomach that quivered with fear and nausea. Things were grim right now; what the heck would I do if I were to lose two week's pay?…

Inside the hazy, musty, smoke filled room, I headed straight to the area where I had camped out the night before. The daytime bartender claimed he knew absolutely nothing about a lost wallet. The only other guy at the bar (one of the regular patrons) was hunched over and didn't utter a word. On my way out I realized I only had one option. Tonight would have to be the night. There was no other way!

Back at home, on top of my kitchenette counter, my answering machine flashed. One of my friends from work had left me a message, asking me to call him right away. He said it was urgent!
"Did you lose your wallet last night?" Troy asked.
"Yes." I replied. "Why?"

Someone had apparently found my wallet in the parking lot and Troy's phone number was the only available contact information.
"Carl would be waiting for you and expects a cash reward," he warned.

Again, to the pub I went. I hoped that I would at least get my driver's license back. To my surprise, there he was! Still stooped over the bar as if he were permanently glued to it. Now the bar fly had a name. I briefly scanned him mentally and quickly labeled Carl as one of those losers who spent their entire day at the tavern. There is no way someone like that could hold down a job of any sort. I snubbed. Where did he get the money to drink all day anyway? Maybe he finds lost wallets all the time. I sneered. As I approached him, he snapped out of his zone and gawked at me with a smile.

"Are you here for the wallet?"
I told him my name and he handed me the worn brown leather.
"How about a twenty for my troubles?"
"I'd love to. But where the hell am I supposed to get the cash from? "I snapped, as I opened my wallet to show him my emptiness. However, to my disbelief and relief, my cash and credit cards were still intact. My cheeks flushed. My mini ego popped. I felt small as if I were standing beside the ocean. Not only had I judged a book by its cover, I had totally misjudged this man. Carl may have looked a lot worse off than me but he had integrity. I thanked him; pulled out a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet and handed it over.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He asked.
"No thanks." I replied. "You've done more than enough.”
I took a few steps toward the exit and stopped. I turned to Carl, sitting there looking so hopeless with his ragged clothes and uncombed hair.
"Why did you do it? Why didn't you just keep all the money"?
"That's just not my style kid. It's not who I am. I may be a little down right now, but I can't let hard times change who I am."

Through the window, I gazed at the liquor store across the street and mumbled, "Neither can I Carl." "Neither can I."

- Tony Andrade-

Home: A Trip Down Memory Lane

This is an excerpt from "Embrace the Wonder," a collaborative and inspirational book/music project in progress...

Some say Home is where the heart is. Others proclaim it’s where you hang your hat. Query Stephen King, he’d probably reply, “Home is where they’ll always let you in.” Just don’t ask my overly animated, “potty humor” obsessed husband; he might regurgitate something like “Home is where I can peacefully pinch a loaf! And in case you’re worn out from all the mutated variations of this ancient cliché, I’d say power up for one more. I intend to whip out a home –grown rendition of my very own…just for you, before this story is over!

Seriously. If home were remotely close to any of the above-italicized descriptions, why then do I ultimately live in the house of my dreams, with a family of my own… yet long for that place? Why is the need to reminisce often strong when I am alone? Why do I feel this void inside my soul?... Then it struck me again like a new idea to a blocked artist! But this time, there was no room to entertain second thoughts or the usual excuses. If I wanted some answers, I had to go back! Back to that place where the child once played hide and seek under the moonlight….

I grew up in “the land of the red earth;” a small town nestled somewhere on the west coast of Africa. I was raised by a single mother in an era when polygamy was rampant and the culture did very little to hold fathers accountable for child support. There were some rough times as I recall. Luckily though, my (gentle, kind, and independent) mother had an entrepreneurial hunger that ensured I always had food on my plate, clothes on my back, a roof over my head and a big mouth to complain about all the other things that I didn’t have. Perhaps watching episode after episode of “Soul Train” made me feel like I was missing out on a whole lot of fun! And like most children my age at that time, I too fantasized and longed to travel abroad. I dreamed of going to America!

Right before my 18th birthday, an extended family member from Texas came home for a brief summer visit. The scoop? His wife had just given birth to theirgetaway 3rd son and they were desperately looking for a live-in help. To me, this was the perfect and several weeks later, I was good to go. So, with a suitcase full of my meager belongings, and a heart full of golden dreams, I hugged my mom and waved goodbye to all the friends and relatives I was leaving behind...

Outside Houston Intercontinental Airport, Mrs. Osaje and the boys were waiting to pick us up. By the time we arrived at their apartment, I knew the household routine like the back of my hand. I would take care of the children while both parents were at work. Somewhere in between, weekend and evening classes were a top priority. Upon my graduation years later, I immediately landed a job as a Child Psychologist at a local shelter working with emotionally handicapped children. That’s where I met my husband, John.

“I can relate to the call of the unknown,” he teased. See, not too long ago, he and his best friend, Tony, had gone on this road trip with no specific destination in mind. They had driven from the Florida Keys, across the Lone Star State; up through the Arizona Desert, down by the Californian Coast to Yosemite, in search of what they referred to as the “Wonder.” If he understood why I needed to visit Nigeria, well, who could argue with that? Unfortunately, my 6-year old daughter, Sidney, didn’t share our sentiments.

"Mama, I don't want you to go to Africa." She whined.
"Honey, I know. But this is something Mommy has to do. All right?"
"Okay. Promise you'll come back home soon?"
"Cross my heart," I said, as I squeezed her gently.

I purchased a round trip ticket and boarded a flight to Lagos. Approximately fifteen hours later, I was a passenger on a bus (similar to a greyhound) en route to my hometown...

To be continued -:)
BD-2006

The Ocean

NOTE: The "Embrace the Wonder" series features excerpts from a collaborative book/music project in progress. John Droese is the main author. However, there are other contributors whose stories would also be featured in this category...

As far back as he could remember, Clyde wanted to see the ocean; but he didn’t really know why. Somewhere deep inside, there was this voice that would come and go. Yet, he couldn’t place it. It wasn’t in his head. It wasn’t in his heart. It pumped through his entire body like blood. “There is a purpose,” it said; “God made me this way for a reason. If I could only see the ocean, the answers would become clear.”

Clyde stands in the WalMart parking lot trying to shake off that voice, that feeling. It’s hot and humid but he knows that the summer is coming to an end. A voice hits him in the face like a cold wind!

“Snap out of it Clyde!”

“ Hey Joe!” Clyde spins around smiling. “Please tell me about the ocean again.”

“Are you still thinking about that? Give it up already man!”

“Well, don’t you remember?” asks Clyde. “Yes I remember.” “And how did it make you feel?” “Complete”. “So why not talk about it?” “ I’ve given up on that long ago,” explains Joe. “Those footprints were washed out by the rising tide. So forget about it okay?”

“I can’t” Clyde says. “That voice! You know, the one about there being a purpose for everything and being made this way for a reason? It just keeps on.”

“Look man, I hear you. You just need to find other ways to ignore it. Watch more TV, read more books or whatever... just find other ways to quiet that voice ok?” “Well, I do. That’s why I hang out with you guys by the Sandbox! You said it’s just like the Beach and I love to listen to all those stories about the ocean.”

“Hey, you and Sheila are getting pretty serious right?” inquires Joe. “Yeah”. “So, why not start a family? That should do it. You'd be so busy running after the kids that you won't even have time to worry about anything else.” “I don’t know.”

“There is a purpose. God made you that way for a reason.”

“Who said that!” responds Clyde; astonished. It was Quan. Clyde liked him even though he was older and set in his ways. “So what’s the purpose oh wise one? Do we all have the same answers? What are they?”

“Young Man,” Quan begins, “You have it all wrong. We were all born with the same questions. The answer is what changes somewhere between you and me.” “What do you mean?”asks Clyde. “ I think we were all given special gifts-A special desire- A dream, if you will. Only the completion of that dream will give you the answers you seek.” “You mean sorta like, how I want to see the ocean?” “Maybe,” replies Quan. “Make the journey and all will be revealed to you.” “But what if it’s hard?”

“It will be hard. Many times, you will want to stop along the way and find substitute answers or other things to occupy your mind and pacify that voice.”
“Boy oh boy!” sighs, Clyde. “Just remember, finding the answers is like following footprints in the sea.” “What exactly does that mean? You sound like Joe!”
“You will know when your journey is complete”.

The road was long and difficult like Quan said. But Clyde took the trip. He was nearing the ocean. He could hear the waves breaking on shore. He could smell the saltwater in the air. The voice pumping through his veins was louder now than ever. “There is a purpose. God made me this way for a reason.” The same voice that kept him going when times got tough…the same voice that was there to drive him. Sometimes it was quieter, but always there. It had never been this loud before; so, he knew he must be near!

The sun began to set as Clyde reached the beach. Suddenly, all the answers swarmed over him. The meaning of life! Why God made him this way! It was all perfectly clear now.

Standing on the white grainy sand watching the sun fade to a thin red line, Clyde felt complete. He spread out his white and black wings and flew out over the ocean. As he joined the other gulls, he wondered why those he had left behind at that parking lot didn’t follow that voice and take the journey. As he floated on the wind, he was just as God intended for him to be...FREE!

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