I’m a word junky. I’ll take them in, breathe them out, tumble them around inside until they’re smooth as river stones, though sometimes I skip that step and they pour out, still rough, sharp corners cutting into the bare feet of those who tread on them. I’m a two-time cancer survivor with low expectations of being done with that. Maybe it’s because I can imagine the next beast, and the next, hiding somewhere behind a tree, just over the horizon, that I eagerly and restlessly fill my life with adventures. We travel and hike and swim and ski, we explore, we have game nights and date nights and road trips and afternoons filled with hammocks and the scent of pine. My son is my favorite color, my daughter is my favorite song, and my husband is my favorite story.