Epilogue
Sonoma County, California
I’m so alive.
As I stand facing the beauty of the neverending Pacific Ocean,
a late afternoon breeze blows down from the hills behind. As
always, it is a beautiful day. The sun is making its final descent.
The magic is about to begin. The skies are ready to burn with
brilliance, as it turns from a soft blue to a bright orange.
Looking towards the West, I stare in awe at the hypnotic power
of the waves. A giant curl begins to take form, then breaks with
a thundering clap as it crashes on the shore. An invisible mist
hits my face, moments before the white foamy water nearly
drowns my feet. The bubbling foam quickly recedes to the power
of the surf. Suddenly, a piece of driftwood washes onto the
shore. It has an odd, twisted shape. The wood is pitted, yet
smoothed and bleached from its time in the sun. I bend down to
pick it up. As my fingers begin to reach out, the water catches
hold dragging the wood back out to sea. For a moment, it looks
as if the wood is struggling to stay ashore. It leaves a trail
behind before reaching the waters, where it bobs violently
before giving in to the ocean.
I marvel at the wood, thinking how it reminds me of my
former life. My beginning was extremely turbulent, being pushed
and pulled in every direction. The more grisly my situation
became, the more I felt as if some immense power were sucking
me into some giant undertow. I fought as hard as I could, but the
cycle never seemed to end. Until suddenly, without warning, I
broke free.
I’m so lucky. My dark past is behind me now. As bad as it
was, I knew even back then, in the final analysis, my way of life
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would be up to me. I made a promise to myself that if I came out
of my situation alive, I had to make something of myself. I would
be the best person that I could be. Today I am. I made sure I let
go of my past, accepting the fact that that part of my life was
only a small fraction of my life. I knew the black hole was out
there, waiting to suck me in and forever control my destiny – but
only if I let it. I took positive control over my life.
I’m so blessed. The challenges of my past have made me
immensely strong inside. I adapted quickly, learning how to
survive from a bad situation. I learned the secret of internal
motivation. My experience gave me a different outlook on life,
that others may never know. I have a vast appreciation for
things that others may take for granted. Along the way I made a
few mistakes, but I was fortunate enough to bounce back.
Instead of dwelling on the past, I maintained the same focus that
I had taught myself years ago in the garage, knowing the good
Lord was always over my shoulder, giving me quiet
encouragement and strength when I needed it most.
My blessings also mean having the opportunity to meet so
many people who had a positive impact on my life. The endless
sea of faces, prodding me, teaching me to make the right
choices, and helping me in my quest for success. They
encouraged my hunger to prevail. Branching out on a different
level, I enlisted in the United States Air Force, discovering
historical values and an instilled sense of pride and belonging
that until then, I had never known. After years of struggle, my
purpose became clear, for above all, I came to realize that
America was truly the land where one could come from less than
humble beginnings, to become a winner from within.
An explosive pounding of the surf brings me back to reality.
The piece of wood I’ve been watching, disappears into the
swirling waters. Without further hesitation, I quickly turn away
and head back towards my truck. Moments later, I race my
Toyota through the snakelike turns driving to my secret Utopia.
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Years ago when I lived in the dark, I used to dream about my
secret place. Now, whenever I can get away, I always return to
the river. After stopping to pick up my precious cargo at the Rio
Villa in nearby Monte Rio, I’m back on the singlelane black top.
For me, it is a race against time, for the sun is about to set and
one of my lifetime dreams is about to come true.
As I enter the.serene city of Guerneville, the 4-Runner truck
goes from a Machlike speed to that of a snail. I tap on the
brakes before turning right, onto Riverside drive. With the
windows rolled down, I fill my lungs full of sweet, purified air
from the towering redwoods that gently sway back and forth.
I bring the white Toyota to a stop, in front of the same home
where a lifetime ago my family and I stayed during our summer
vacations. 17426 Riverside Drive. Like many things, the house
too has changed. Years ago, two tiny bedrooms were added
behind the fireplace. A vague attempt of expanding the tiny
kitchen was made before the flood of 1986. Even the mighty tree
stump, where years ago my brothers and I spent endless hours
climbing on, is now in decay. Only the cabin’s darkened cedar
ceiling and the riverstone fireplace have been left unchanged.
I feel a little sad as I turn away, strolling across the small
gravel road. Then, making sure not to disturb anyone, I lead my
son, Stephen, through a tiny passage beside the same house that
my parents led my brothers and I through, years ago. I know the
owner and I am sure he wouldn’t mind. Without saying a word,
my son and I gaze westward. The Russian River is the same as it
always was, dark green and as smooth as glass, as it flows ever
so gently to the mighty Pacific. Bluejays call to each other as
they glide through the air, before disappearing into the
redwoods. The sky above is now bathed with streaks of orange
and blue. I take another deep breath and close my eyes,
savoring the moment like I did years ago.
As I open my eyes, a single tear rolls down the side of my
cheek. I kneel down wrapping my arms around Stephen’s
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shoulders. Without hesitation, he leans his head back and gives
me a kiss. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too,” I reply.
My son gazes up at the darkening sky. His eyes grow wide as
he strains to capture the disappearing sun. “This is my favorite
place in the whole world!” Stephen announces.
My throat becomes tight. A small stream of tears begins to
fall. “Mine too,” I reply. “Mine too.”
Stephen is at that magical age of innocence, but yet is wise
beyond his years. Even now, as salty tears run down my face,
Stephen smiles, letting me maintain my dignity. But he knows
why I’m crying. Stephen knows my tears are tears of joy.
“Love you Dad.”
“Love you too, son.”
I’m free.
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