New Orleans has the most vibrant feel to it. It somehow seems that there is more life and more death there than anywhere I've ever experienced. It's like the people have experienced a deeper pain and a greater joy and they're somehow brave enough to share it, to exude it.

I wanted to tell you, too, about the day we met. I wasn't in a good place. Of course, you already know that. You know about Mom, and the desperate grief, and the waves.

What if fever dreams are just portents of the future? What if the muted colors and repeating themes are just an effort on the part of your mind to imprint what's important?

Or are dreams just memories of things that never happened?

We have had some stupid fights in our time, and I would take the stupidest one over the dead silence between my sobs.

I can't help imagining you dancing in the mud and kicking a little bit of it in William's direction when we found the diamond. In my mind's eye you're laughing, and your hair is lit by the sun, and for a moment it would feel like we have forever.

There are people here who love me. They're not you, but you didn't leave me with nothing. You left me with the ability to love and be loved, and I'll be forever grateful. And if none of them get to know you, I'll make sure you're remembered somehow. Not because you're dead, but because you lived. Because you shone with the light of a star, because I revolved around you like the solar system you absolutely deserved.

I have a thought that when I'm done with this road trip, finishing it off with something significant, I'm sure, I'll end up in Oregon or Washington. The call of the gulls and the pounding of the waves can be the background of my life, and when I look back at my life in Colorado, you will be alive in some part if only because I've never lived there when you weren't.

It's times like these I remember that I want to change the world and make a difference. I want to make sure kids like Hank don't have to worry where their next meal is coming from, and women like Nancy can meet the eye of anyone they see with confidence.

After a terrifying nighttime fire, Bo finds herself in the place she least wants to be, surrounded by the sterile environment of a hospital, caring for a child. Gathering all her courage, Bo must give strength to others when her own is waning.

I usually write a letter to Mom once a week. Don't worry, I'm not crazy. But I do think it might be better for me to write to you sometimes as well. I'm trying to learn to work toward the future instead of dwelling in the past.

It was such a great experience seeing San Antonio through his eyes. I'm a little sad he doesn't live there anymore. He seems to really care for the city.

They also have an antique carousel, which was really fun and reminded me of the one I checked out in Albany, Oregon.

I think it's so cool how people have carved these animals for decades, and there's enough love for the history of it that their restoration is taking place.