Janet, God bless her, arrived in the wee hours this morning, walking softly through the door to the kitchen, shsshing the dog’s barks, hair still wet from a quick, wakening shower, eyes as bright as the morning sun which we wouldn’t see for another 2 hours. It was 4:21am. We embraced like the old friends we have become in only a couple of years. She continues to amaze me with her wisdom, her endless kindness, her belly-bouncing sense of humor, her gentle and non-obtrusive support. How many people would get up hours before dawn to schlep someone an hour round trip to the airport? Janet’s love knows no boundaries. She handed me her personal talisman, to be returned to her when she picks me up on the opposite end of this Peruvian excursion into the mysterious Andean mountain peaks. At least then the time will be a civilized arrival hour.

Her talisman, on thin black leather, partially braided string, holds a silver goddess symbol and three beads, black, red and clear-white. They represent the three stages of a woman’s life - the virgin, the matron and the crone.I confess to never much caring for the word, crone. The image is instant; that of the wicked witch of the north, green faced with warts. "It’s to keep you safe," she told me, her hazel eyes meeting mine in twin reflections of tears. I felt so deeply loved.

I do not have a clue what I lay ahead of me. My intent is to have the courage to listen to my own voice ... and trust what it tells me to do. If this relationship with this fine woman is any indication of the extraordinary possibilities, then I have nothing to fear.

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