When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to sing me a song that always used to make her cry. Not knowing how to react to her tears, I would cry too. Even now, whenever I hear the song, it strikes a sentimental chord deep within me that oftentimes racks me with deep sobbing tears.
And I never understood why.
Until today.
The song laments the singer’s inability to travel to a delightful faraway land known only in stories—a land that no one can ever visit. It is the beautiful distant land of the future—a wonderful place that exists only in one’s imagination.
Born before the automobile ever reached FoldintheMap, my grandmother never could have imagined the places her only grandchild would go. But her vivid imagination and her continuous encouragement, even now, decades after her death, serve as the wind beneath my wings.
I have found the end of the rainbow.
And today not only have I discovered this beautiful land, but I have discovered she has been here with me all the time.
