A funny thing happened on the way to Maine to read a poem. I ran over a blown-out tire on I-95 somewhere in New Hampshire. The slight impact bent part of my front fender. Of course this happened a few hours before I was to participate in a poetry reading hosted by WAVE (Writers and Authors for Visceral Entertainment) for the Belfast Art Walk. Luckily, I was two highway exits away from the amazing service team at Starkey Ford that got me fixed up and back on the road in less than an hour. My daughter and I arrived in Belfast 30 minutes before the event, checked into our suite at the Jeweled Turret Inn, changed out of our road-trip leggings, and made our way to the venue just in time to meet up with dear friend and writer Anne Britting Oleson, five minutes before I was scheduled to begin reading. After a great dinner with Anne and her daughter Rosalie, we returned to the inn and fell into bed. The next morning we were back on the road heading home by 6AM because my daughter had an early morning shift at the bakery. As I was slipping back into my road-trip leggings, and my daughter into her work uniform, I stopped to sign the guest book in our suite. I thanked the innkeeper for the delicious lemon poppy-seed scones she baked especially for our early morning departure and promised our return. I then tucked a signed copy of my poem, Water, into the guest book with a note it is forthcoming in the Fall/Winter issue of the Aurorean, a poetry journal local to central Maine. The simple act of leaving behind a poem filled me with gratitude- the first day of summer marked my three months in remission and I am well enough to travel to read a poem written about a day at the beach a year ago right before my cancer diagnosis. Next on my to-do list: grow enough hair to cover my scalp, remain cancer free, make more poems.