Yonder is Jackson Hole

On the road to wyoming, there are lots pf aigns, Most of them warn of some kind of danger: WATCH FOR DEER. WATCH FOR FALLING ROCK. TRUCK, CHECK YOUR BRAKES. TINE IN FOR ROAD CLOSURES. ELK CROSSING NEXT 2MILES. SNOW SLIDE AREA, NO PARKING OR STOPPING. I drive my car behind Mum the whole way from California with Jeffry in thr passenger seat, trying not to freak out about how all the signs point to the fact that we're headed someplace wild and dangerous.

At the moment I'm driving through forest made up entirely of lodgepines. Talk about sureal. I can't get over the sight of all the wyoming licence plates on the cars speeding past, many with the fateful number 22 on the left side. That number has brought us a long way, through six short weeks of crazy preparation, selling our house, saying goodbye to the friends and neighbors I've known my entire life, and packing up and moving to a place where non of us knows a single solitary soul; Teton country, Wyoming, which according to Goggle is country number 22, population just over 20,000. That's roughly five people every square mile.

We're moving to the boonies. All because of me. I've never seen so much snow. It's terrifying. My new Prius (courtesy of dear old dad) is getting a real workout on the snowy mountain road. But there's no turning back now. The guy at the gas station assured us that the pass through the mointains is perfectly safe, so long as a storm doesn't come up. All I can do is clutch the steering wheel and try not to pay attention to the way the moubtainside plunges off a few feet from the edge of the road.

I spot the WELCOME TO WYOMING SIGN. "Hey," I say to jeffrey. "This is it."

He doesn't answer. He slumps in the passenger seat, angry music pounding from his iPod. The farther we get from California and his sports team and his friends, the more sullen e becomes. After two days on tje road, it's getting old. I grab the wire and yank one of his earbuds out.

"what?" he says, glaring at me.

"we're in Wyoming, doofus. We're almost there." "Woo freaking hoo.. he says, and stuffs the earbud back in.

He's going to hate me for a while.

Jeffrey was pretty easygoing kid before he found out about the angel stuff. But I know how that goes. One minute you're happy fourteen year olg good at everything you try, popular, fun and the next you're freak with wings. It takes some adjustment. And it was only like a month after he got the news that I received my little mission from heaven. Now we're dragging him off to Nowheresville, Wyoming, in January, no less, right smack in the middle of the school year.

When Mum announced the move, he yelled, "I'm not going!" with his fists clenched at his side like he wanted to hit something.

"You are going," Mum replied, looking up him coolly. "And I wouldn't be surprise if you find your purpose in Wyoming, too."

"I don't care," he said. Then he turned and glared at me in a way that makes me cringe everytime I remember it.

Mum on her part, obviously digs Wyoming . She's been back and forth a few times scouting for a house, enrolling Jeffry and me in new school, smoothing out the transition between her job at Apple in Californiaand the work she will be doing for them from home after we move. She has chattered for hours about the beautiful scenery that will now be part of our everyday lives, fresh air the wildlife, the weather and how much we'll love the winter snow.

That's why Jeffrey is riding with me. He can't stand to listen to Mum blather on about how great it's all going to be. The first time we stopped for gas on the trip he got out of her car, grabbed his backpack, walked over to mine and got in. No explaination. I guess he decided that he currently hates her more than he does me.