My mom and I were pioneers in our small home town.  She was a brave, single mom who decided to raise me alone when my biological father decided a kid was too much responsibility for him despite their two year committed relationship.  In a town of less than a thousand people, a kid without a dad was a rarity and at a very early age I knew I was different than other people.

Happily, my grandparents, aunts, and uncles loved both my mom and me enough to pick up the slack and I was content to let the story of my father wait until I was older.  I was smothered in enough love and normalcy to dismiss the notion of one missing person in my life.   Besides, I reasoned that Jesus didn’t have a father either, so maybe I was like just like Jesus.

As a young single mom in a small town, my mom did a wonderful job at making my life normal but still magical.  One of my favorite memories from that time is riding around the Michigan country side singing John Denver tunes with her.  His songbook is the lullaby of my childhood and the songs still tug at the piece of my soul those early memories are woven into.

Roughly fourteen hours after deciding to embark on our unexpected road trip back to Atlanta, a gentle rain and John Denver’s “Country Roads” welcomed us both safely home. It was the perfect end to this perfect journey home.   No matter how far and wide I travel this world and through this life, home is just a song away.