Here it was at last. I hadn't felt it when I stood beneath the sign of Niederbexbach with Tom and Vicki, I hadn't felt it when I stood in front of Manfred Harth's house. Several times on our tour of these small places, Heinrich had asked me, "Well, are you listening to the blood of your ancestors here?" And the question had kind of been an embarrassment, because I wasn't sure whether I felt this connection or not.

But then it happened as we came to Gumbsweiler! I did "smell the blood" of my ancestor, Abraham Fickeisen. The feeling started very small in my heart, but it grew steadily. As we approached the bridge above, Heinrich drove on through, but I stopped for a minute to take pictures. As I stood looking into the river Glan and the field beside it, I was certain that Abraham Fickeisen had stood here 150 years before and said goodbye to this place he loved. I was sure that he and his love, Margaretha Mueller, had walked along this river. I could see him walking the three miles to Buborn to be with Margaretha.

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