My mother was an artist in her own right, a poet with six books and many awards to her credit. She raised me to fall in love with the power of words. Sadly, she died of complications due from Alzheimer’s three years ago. Living in California, I was far away from her home in Vermont through much of her illness. One day I received a phone call from my sister who was helping to look after her. She said, in essence, “Jan, you are going to miss everything if you don’t get here and spend more time with her. She will disappear completely.” Fortunately, I had a wonderful and sustaining relationship with my mom all my life and, those last visits were devastating and filled with meaning. Some time after her death I remember thinking about what it would be like for a man to receive a call like I had from my sister if, in place of a positive bond, there existed a chasm between mother and son. I wondered what would happen if he realized, at last, that he really wanted to know her and there was a narrowing window of time. That became the germ of this novel that developed into an emotional journey as I considered the power of women—be they mothers, daughters, teachers, or lovers—in the shaping of my life.