I am in sitting by the window looking out upon the boreal forest of the Canadian Shield turning red. Seriously — I don’t know if this is the boreal forest or not – but I sure do like that term. Such poetry in its words.

And uneventful, effortless flight. A drive in the darkness beneath a star strewn sky and C.C. and I are here, by the lake, settling in, communing with eachother, nature and the quietness of the world around us. No traffic noises. No street scape sounds. Nothing but the silence of forest and the sound of rain dripping from the corner of the eaves and off of tree branches.

There are heroes everywhere on the journey. From baggage handlers to counter clerks and flight attendants and pilots. From ground control and air traffic control and all those who make it possible for us to fly effortlessly through the air. From those who work on creating these marvels called jetliners, to those who ensure every nut and bolt is screwed in tightly to ensure safe travels, there are heroes everywhere on the journey.

Think about it. At noon we leave a city at the foot of the Rockies. Fly across prairies that reach out to the horizon, across lakes and forests to land five and a half hours later after a stop-over in Toronto at Canada’s capital city, Ottawa. A rental car organized — they didn’t have the mid-size we’d reserved so we opt for a Mustang instead of the only other option, a Suburban.  We drive through darkness and here we are sitting by a lake in the morning light filtering through trees turning green to red beside a gun-metal grey lake that ripples in silent waves beneath equally grey skies. And it is beautiful.

Think about it. For us to travel so far countless people played a role in our journey. Unseen hands that service and direct and ensure our travels unfold without mishap. And should a mishap happen, unseen hands that smooth out the ridges where travel and the uncertainty of the future meet.

There are heroes everywhere on the journey and today, I celebrate them.

And, I celebrate a writer named Brenda Missen. I met her last night at the pub where Charles and I stopped to grab a bite to eat on our way to the lake. The manager at the Wilno Pub kept the kitchen open late for us — he is a hero! Brenda was sitting at the bar visiting with the waitress. I over heard her mention, “my book is still touching people. I’m still getting requests from book clubs,” and, in the course of chatting with our waitress, a laughing comment to her friend at the bar, I discover her name, Brenda Missen.

“You wrote a book about a woman who went missing and was killed by her partner. She was your friend,” I exclaimed when I heard her name.

She looked suprised. How do you know me? she asked.

I heard you interviewed on CBC, I told her. It was the Monday of the September long weekend. I was driving back from Saskatoon and there you were, travelling with me as I crossed the prairies.

Wow she said. That interview must have been a repeat of an interview I did almost two years ago. It’s the only time I was interviewed on CBC.

And we chatted and were astounded by the linkages in our lives.

Brenda’s book, “Tell Anna She’s Safe” is told as a fictional account of a woman who goes missing and whose best friend searches for her. It’s Brenda’s story but not really. It’s really the story of a woman she knew, Louise, who fell in love with a man in prison and who disappeared one day in April 1995. She’s recounted it as fiction — but there is much truth in the story-telling.

And there she was, sitting at the bar on a Friday night when we happened to stop in on our way from Ottawa to the lakehouse where we’re staying for the next week.

I bought her book. “I happen to have some in my car,” she said.

We’re meeting up this week for coffee.

Brenda Missen in a hero. She wouldn’t let the disappearance of her friend go unnoted. She wouldn’t let her story die.