Who could have known . . .
. . . that this girl child, seeded in a little cabin at a Columbine resort on her mother’s honeymoon, would carry stardust in her veins from a stellar system so very far away in the universe? It would have been impossible at that time for anyone to know that in this mortal flesh walked an entity of high spiritual esteem.
My mother named me Diana after the goddess of the hunt, the forest, and the beloved moon—which is merely 250 thousand miles away. Precious, precious and set aside, kept safe for these days; I was tenderly wrapped in mythology and poetry and tucked in nightly by my mother who showed me the moon and the man who lived there. This magical lady told me, her firstborn, that I was made of moonbeams and stardust.
There is no doubt in my mind that I was programmed by Lorine’s love of poetry and stories. Her childlike belief in the truth of fairytales and the magic of rhyme and words strung together like precious jewels in a royal necklace was impressed into my DNA. (This caused certain dendrons to lie down and give way to those that would stand tall and carry verse and prose through my soul like a great river.)
I have kept my promise to Lorine. I have written her story, The Cowgirl Princess and Starwalker, using her collection of journals and photographs and of course, I wove it all together with my own especially special collection of memories and lots and lots of stardust and tears.