At the young age of 31, Lexi had everything she ever wanted. She had an established career, was married to a hot Columbian man, and still had the freedom to live as she chose, in spite of her marital status and seventy hour work weeks. She was a self acknowledged gypsy who didn't want the trappings of children and convention.

It wasn't until Lexi's grandmother died that she would delve into the undercurrent of her existence. Why would the death of one's grandmother, a woman who hadn't played a substantial role in Lexi's life, cause the stirrings of introspection in a life that was going smoothly? What about Lexi's ancestry had caused her fly by night reality?

As she traveled to her birthplace in steamy Florida, worked in a chaos and sex filled nursing home, and listened to the whisperings of her deceased grandmother, Lexi would finally find the reasons behind her own impulsivity and free spirited ways. She would learn the beautiful and difficult lesson that every strand of hair on her head had been irrevocably dictated by her colorful gene pool; but that there also remained some wiggle room to fix the wounds of her own making and transcend those of the dead buried deep in the earth.

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