After staying in Portland a week, my people headed south down the coast in their RV desperately seeking some more remote surroundings. I continued to follow them.

They found a free camping spot on the Rogue river called Jerry’s Flats and just had to stay a few days. I would have loved it – nothing around but a big river bed to run and play on.

So I joined them in spirit once again, and even let them know I was there …

Walking one day in the drizzle, they happened upon my name scribbled on a rock, among so many others on the huge gravel bar.

What are the chances? And who’s Grandma? Deep in their hearts, Jim and René know.