chapter one Invisible Tears I became aware at an early age. If I close my eyes I can still see the moment clearly. I was no more than five years old as I played outside my family home in Stone Mountain, Georgia. To be clear, our house was some 10 miles from Stone Mountain. It seems the land I grew up on and all that surrounded it was donated to the county of Dekalb by an elderly woman who's only wish was for it to have a Stone Mountain mailing address. In her honor, the area was called Dilhe Heights and was given the mailing address she requested. Our house was situated on a corner lot in a manner of speaking. The driveway leading to the house was nearly flat as it was cut at an angle mid-way down a large hill. The road out front curved along our property until it reached a long flat straight-a-way. This became the source of much joy for me and my friends. We would make every type of contraption in order to hurl our bodies down the hill and around the curve. Skate boards, rollerskates and soap box derbies were all tested and improved upon. It was a balancing act of speed and maneurerability. Too fast and you wouldn't make the curve in the road. This would lead to a very painful crash into the granite curb and subsequent tumbling into the neighbors yard. Of course this was also wonderful amusement for the spectators. To slow and you wouldn't have a chance at the perfect run which was measured by the distance one could achieve on the long flat straight-a-way. The wheel became the key to creating the best machine and no wheel was safe from our scrounging. Lawnmowers, tricycles, rollerskates, and even bar-b-que grills had a habit of losing their parts when we were on the hunt for finding the right balance. The starting line was up to the racer and it took great courage to begin at the top of the hill. Yet the day I became aware took courage of a different kind. My friends were all gone that day and the only ones I had to play with was my two sisters. To make matters worse, their source of amusement came from drawing squares linked together in chalk on the drive way. The game was called hop-scotch. A stone was thrown into one of the squares and then they would take turns hopping from square to square on one foot and then the other until the stone was retrieved. I watched from a distance as they laughed and giggled. They even had the nerve to ask me to play. How would it be if my friends were to catch me playing such a silly game? No, I had to wait until no one was around before I took my turn. After watching my sister who was two years older than me and my other sister who was one year younger than me easily navigate the squares, I was confident I would have no trouble mastering this game. Several trips and stumbles later I started to have a bit more respect. That was the moment I found my balance. I had a revelation. An epiphany if you like. Without knowing how or why, two things about my life had been made clear to me. I would live for more than hundred years and I would play an important part in saving the world. As the weight of this knowledge sunk in, I felt like nothing more than a speck on a world spinning through the heavens. I fell to the ground to keep from being flung into space, and as I lay there, my jeans and tee-shirt smeared with red chalk, I began to cry. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said in a voice that lacked any sincerity, "but I need to make my rounds." "I thought you wanted me to tell you a story?" I replied. "Stories of monsters. Not tales of children's games. You promised scary stories", she replied almost pleading. "You don't think scary stories and girl's games can go together?"