The Day Before

Oftentimes when I read a book, I want to savor each word, each phrase, each page, loving the prose so much, I don't want it to end. Other times the story pulls me in, and I can hardly read fast enough, the details flying by, some of them lost because all that matters is making sure the character is all right when it's over.

I get it. Sometimes you want to remember. And sometimes you need to forget.

There is something comforting about a lighthouse. In the dark of the night, hold on to the light, and you’ll get back home safely. I need a personal lighthouse.

Some mornings, it's hard to get out of bed. Sleep lures you like a stranger with a piece of candy. Follow me. It will be okay. I promise. You know better, but still you follow, because you really do love candy.

One time Mom told me the people you can be quiet with are the ones you are the most comfortable with.

I see you. Because in you, I see me.

I wish for the breeze to blow away our troubles. I wish for the sun to dry out our sorrows. I wish for the friendship to fill up our hearts.

To plan it all would take away from the fun and the excitement of what's to come. Let the day reveal itself to me in its own time, in its own way. I am yours, Today. I am yours.

It's like the silence that follows the beautiful song. Or the darkness that follows the glitter in the air. He knew what to do to make it better. As I walk toward the door, I take a deep breath. I know what to do to make it better. As he embraced me, I will try to embrace this day that follows the day before.

Life is the bad with all the good. The deadly sharks with the beautiful sea stars. The gigantic waves with the sand castles. The licorice with the lemon and lime. The loud lyrics with the rhythm of the music. The liver disease with the love of a father and son. It’s life. Sweet, beautiful, wind on your face, air in your lungs, kisses on your lips. life.

We have a lot of questions, and we want to understand. Music helps with that . Music helps with everything.

I see you. The real you. The you who fillips a coin, hoping to understand how fate works: this choice or that choice, ultimately leaving you no choice at all. The you who smiles and tries to be happy because that’s what people want you to be.

One picture will have to be enough. Just like one day will have to be enough.

sometimes, love is loud. sometimes, love is quiet. Always, love is my mom.

I want him to live,” he says. I watch, helpless, as the pain slips out. Tears fall when he whispers, “But damn it, I want to live, too.

He cups my face with both hands leans in, eyes lingering a sweet second before his lips are there on mine, teasing, playing, tasting, kissing. When he pulls away, I'm breathless. He nuzzles my ear. "Now that's thrilling." You got that right.

He reaches over for my hand. Holds it there, on my leg. My heart skips a beat, and I gave his hand a little squeeze as I put all of my carefully selected words away.

I like the memories because they remind me I haven't always been this girl, constantly mad or scared or confused.

Let the day reveal itself to me in its own time, in its own way. I am yours, Today. I am yours

anticipation is the best alarm there is

Sometimes you want to remember. And sometimes you need to forget.

One outer paddles around on his back, spinning a blue ball on his tummy. I could watch them for hours. Because they get it. They get that life is short and you should just forget the crap and have fun.

His warm voice tiptoes into the quiet room.

Anticipation is the best alarm there is, and it shook me awake before my phone even had the chance.

It brings me back to the moment, and I want to live the moment with everything I’ve got.

Many times when I read a book, I want to savor each word, each phrase, each page, loving the prose so much, I don’t want it to end. Other times the story pulls me in, and I can hardly read fast enough, the details flying by, some of them lost because all that matters is making sure the character is all right when it’s over.

Music can change the mood in a drumbeat.

Hidden, there, behind the face of a beautiful boy, I see you. The real you.