I can remember three things about 1980. Some guy named John Lennon was shot to death, and Mom took me to see The Empire Strikes Back. The third memory was seeing Dad for the last time. He had passed away the year before.

The Southern sunlight peeked through my window, calling me like the sound of a banjo bouncing from the East Tennessee mountain tops. Each day would bring a brand new adventure. All I had to do was experience it, soak it up, and bask in the beauty of freedom only rewarded to a kid my age. "I Love you, Mom" was the first and only recognition she received most mornings. Before she could even turn around to acknowledge me, the sound of the screen door slamming was her indication I'd be back home before dark.

I began my journey on a well-worn path through the woods I had blazed many times before. While the course was familiar, the spectacles along the way never ceased to amaze me. The curiosity of a nine-year-old is easily ignited, but I choose to believe magical moments materialized with each stride I took. Several trees had been cut down the prior week and left lying in the woods. These were GIANT works of art tangled, stacked, and intertwining. What an incredible fort! Maybe it was a wrecked pirate ship. I could be Tarzan swinging from limb to limb and climbing within the fallen timbers. Foliage cracked under my feet as I looked up into the sky. The wind whispered and gave me kisses through the mangled labyrinth as I caught subtle glimpses of passing clouds.

I'd probably spent more time in my imaginary castle than I realized. Time slips so quickly for a child. As far as I was concerned, I was still in the early stages of my quest. So much more to explore, and the day was mine! I continued further into the woods witch eventually led me out of the woods into the river bottom. I could see my oasis shine through the last few bushes I trekked past. A beautiful cold water spring awaited a thirsty traveler. An old tree stood beside the calm welcomed body of water. A single nail had been driven through the bark, and hanging from it was a shiny dented tin cup. I had always assumed the chalice was for well-deserving adventures like myself. I would envision the cup giving me special powers or the spring granting me eternal life like the fountain of youth. To this very day, I can not think of a time I enjoyed the taste of water as much as I did from that old tin cup by the spring.

I looked out over the Cumberland River and noticed a little darkness creeping in. Was the sun already beginning to set? Impossible, my day had only just begun. Dinner time has to be hours away. I still have way too much exploring on my agenda to turn back now. Revitalized by the mysterious goblet of life, I took off in a full-fledged sprint deeper into untapped territory. To my surprise, the sun was defiantly calling it a day. I was in trouble because I had missed supper. It was time to run unlike I ever had before. Branches slapping me in the face, roots emerging from the ground with each stride, and rocks appearing from nowhere made my return treacherous. I was lost.

There I sat, a terrified nine-year-old in the middle of the forest all alone. I was covered from head to toe with bruises, cuts, and dirt. Tears filled my eyes and made tiny trails down my cheeks, parting the dust on my face. My head dropped, I wrapped my hands around the back of my neck as if to protect myself from danger. As I rocked back and forth, I noticed a small burst of light off in the distance. I forced myself to stand and used every bit of energy I had left to make my way toward the beacon.

I second-guessed myself and was unsure if the sparkle had even come from in front of me. Maybe my mind was playing tricks. Then another slight twinkle caught my attention. I moved quickly toward the illuminations. The radiant bursts were happening more frequently, giving me a clear path to a small opening in the woods. It was almost like someone had cleared everything away and provided me with a single stump to sit on so I could enjoy the show.

Millions of fireflies surrounded me. I felt like my body was floating in outer space while I eavesdropped on neon stars echoing amid the florescent moonbeams shooting in each direction. The cool glow of each candescent light calmed me as time wore on. I was no longer alone. My panic had vanished. The spot I had been led to was familiar, and I knew it was time to go home.

Luckily my mother had fallen asleep on the couch watching television. She had no clue I had been out so late. The radiant beauty of the painting my mind sketched out that night is still one of the most awe-inspiring memories I hold. The night offered me a final moment with Dad I will never forget because I knew he was guiding my steps.