Valley Stories

Gaia held out her hand and Giselle took it and stood up. The view of the incredible winter scene wavered a bit and suddenly they were in a beautiful meadow not far from the edge of a small town. Giselle gasped slightly, not just at the shifting scene, but the feel of late spring instead of winter. Knowing Gaia for only a short time and the amount of information that she absorbed still didn’t prepare her for such things. G...

  On the morning of June 8, 1950, I met the world in a ramshackle farmhouse surrounded by a pear orchard. As I gasped for air, then screamed to announce the importance of my arrival, the Mexican midwife carried me outside and bathed me in cool water from a hand pump.  Properly bathed and blessed in her Mayan dialect, she carried me back to be soothed with the milk of my mother's breasts.  My father selected an auspicious...