Mmm, freshly baked cookies. Even better, the rich, buttery scent had conquered the usual mothball odor.

When every piece falls into place, it's like a dance, a delicate but powerful balancing act. The art of holding on and letting go at the same time.

Even here in Michigan my mom had found a way to climb before she even knew it was a sport. Before she'd ever seen a mountain.

But in this crowd, my blond ponytail stood out like a crescent moon in a midnight sky.