July 2006. I was very pregnant with Atticus, who was born in September of that year.

Ryan, Lucas, and I rode down 86 into North Carolina, past Yanceyville, where Kevin was working in the prison, to Shangri-La.

Lucas was almost two years old; Ryan was 13. It was a pretty fun, but hot, afternoon, if memory serves. Lucas was so excited about the little stone buildings that it took Ryan and me both to keep him off them.

I remember going there years and years ago with my mom and dad.

The man who built it was so nice; he would come out and show off his miniature masterpiece, enjoying the company of people who stopped to admire it.

Since he died, the place changed hands, the buildings aren’t kept up like they used to be.

And the new owners didn’t seem to care much for visitors. (I guess I should be thankful they didn’t call the law on us.) They made their presence known but didn’t come out to chat.