Write out important moments.

I’ll always write out the moments I need to- this doesnt need to be a concious goal. Besides, this year I’m going to cut down on unecessary words- both written and spoken.

E. said, “Tell me something about you I dont know.”

“If ‘freshly printed glossy postcard’ was a cologne, it would be my signature scent.”

He was delighted. I was dead serious.

Don’t do it again. Please.

[I love you, which is now and has always been the problem to my solutions. Darling, I’m afraid you don’t recall how powerful you are; you perpetually forget your own ability to change the world. You leave your valiance under a stack of week old bills on your night table and then forget to remember to dig it out. Your passion is on ice and is never payed any mind or respect.
My heart aches for your forgetfulness, but more for your lack of faith. I wonder if you still don’t believe in God. I wonder if you’re now denying you heard him speaking to you as we were falling in love- ages ago- eons and seasons and sorrows and dreams have come and gone since we fell in love, but I pray to every facet of God you have not forgotten.
Please, dearest, please listen with the ear of your heart when I speak to you next week, listen when I tell you you have everything you need. Don’t make me beg you to be the spectacular being you were meant to be. You can do anything. Please don’t insult your self and existence with mediocrity. I don’t care if I never hear from you again, as long as I know you’ll remember your wings the next time that you find yourself falling.]

The garage door opened silently and everyone gasped at the sight of them; six perfect new cars, some of which cost more than half a million dollars. I realized with mild discomfort that this was a hobby of his, and probably not one which he was all that impassioned about; just something to pass the time. I focused on a car, a black one, or rather, on the reflection of everyone behind me in the surface of it; A fascinated crowd of warped figures, oooh-ing and aah-ing every few seconds. He came and stood beside me.

“Only five like it in the world. Have y’ever seen anything rarer than that?”
“Yes, every day.” I replied as gently as possible, reminding myself I was a guest in his home.
He looked befuddled, but intrigued.
“Like what?”
“Me, You, and that man in the red shirt, for starters.”

I didn’t mean to alienate, but that was the last conversation he attempted to start with me that evening. Ocasionally, I’d catch him watching me from a distance. His expression reminded me of a child who has just run full speed into a sliding glass door, retracted, bewildered, wary.

Al, Jac, Ni, and Me – all in the car by ten o’ clock this morning headed axis-style into the map of this day, today; and it is too day for me to care I’ve not slumbered sufficiently. Ni shared the backseat with me and I got to study his face while he prayed in story form through the telling of his life. Al driving, but really, fully concentrating on the loving act of keeping us alive while chanting a soft-brake mantra; True blue verbosity coming’ from Jac – saying what she means, which is that she is where she wants to be – with us. And I revel in the in-and-out of my breathing, and the wonder that is wakefulness.
At 10:47 this morning I know for a fact there is no amount of loving action that will repay the bestowal of this life, but I will work towards that end nonetheless.