Baby.

The way that I will love you will be to let you know that I am here, right here, always for you and your Mom and Dad, no matter what...always. Little Man of Many Blessings to be born to two people who will love you with all that they have, and who love each other as much as they do. Welcome, baby boy.

Here we go...

To My Boys,

Thank you for showing me that disappointment is part of loving someone, and you don't die a horrible, painful, jerky-limbed death when you are in fact disappointed. Even though it hurts a lot more than you expected sometimes.

Thank you for proving to me that you can argue with someone and the relationship is not instantly over, or bad, or not worth it. Thank you also for allowing me to realize that even when you irritate the crap outta me, or I outta you, that in some capacity, you'll still be around to make me laugh or listen while I cry. Oh, and for helping me realize that I can disagree whole-heartedly, or maybe just half-heartedly, or a third...with your life-policies, or you with mine, and we can still respect each other as people, and as friends.

Thank you for realizing who I am, that I am not perfect, that I make huge glaring mistakes and for loving me anyway. Thank you for showing me that you are not perfect, just human, and it's OK to still be enamored of you, in all of your boyish charm.

I've learned a lot from you two boys, specifically...you know who you are. I want passionately for you both to be as happy as you can be, and not just because it will make me happy, too...OK, maybe a little. I want the most for you to follow who you are, and I trust that you know how you will do that. All I ask is that you listen, and pay attention.

If you don't, I will kick your asses.

I love you boys.

What if fine isn't good enough?

And that, my friends, is what some of us will ask ourselves daily until we choose to ignore our hearts. Or we die. Either choice means the death of something, regardless.

To the late bloomers, my brethren:
The struggle is the reason why we whine; bemoan our precarious and murky positions. It is why we compare ourselves to others, second guess the instincts that we are meant to believe in, and undermine our confidence until it is nothing but a shadow of who we could be. "What is wrong with me? What can I do differently? Why is this/does this/will this keep happening to me? What can I do that has not already been done, and better? Who am I to stand up, stand alone, stand at all when my way is no clearer to me than the next? Will I always fail? Die trying? Leave this earth wanting and wondering and never knowing what I could have done if I did just STAND UP?" The niggling questions are by the thousands, and their multi-faceted, layered answers are responses that we will continually seek...and when we do happen upon any of those answers, we stare in disbelief, and think "no way"...and thus the vicious cycle begins anew.

What I am coming to realize is that the struggle is who we are. What we do, how we live, how we handle the mundane to the unimaginable...it carves us out of the crowd to be what we choose to be. Consciously or not. My writer's block is mightily frustrating, but it will be how I overcome it that lasts as an imprint in this world. The lack of a career that I am proud of makes me restless, jaded and bored until I act out just to entertain myself. The question here is what exact type of fire needs to be lit underneath my feet for me to stand up and start a journey...not just an existence. I long for a family and feel it like a phantom limb...I feel that even though I haven't even got a whiff of "THE one" in my life right now, the man that I want to share my life with and the family that we will create together already exists. Inside of me (alright, in him too, but I still get to name all the kids). My biggest challenge will be to learn how to make that ghost-like limb grow in, real, solid, healthy and strong.

We all know, I can't be growing anything (even a plant) until I am right with myself. And learn how to deal with this struggle. And thus, the vicious cycle...

There are a few things that I know to be true, that I will never doubt.
One of them is that I am not meant to fail.
I will certainly fall. But I am meant to come up swingin' - even if I have to cherish the feeling of the hard earth beneath my cheek for longer than most.

Damn.
November again.



It’s only November
passing swiftly
as I plead for you
and fight against everything
that being on my knees will bring

It’s only November
and I wonder
fleetingly
whether or why
there is any reason to cast tears
or remain with grudges everlastingly

It’s only November
and I marvel constantly
why I give small aspects
of me
only to snatch them back
and judge them all unworthy

It is only November
and I am tired
the strain of my forged smile
wearing on the person that I could be
if only I could just let go of November

-------------------------------------

You were right.

I am holding back. I have always held back.
And it is with great consternation that I realize that I am stuck.
Inside of me.

If you can make the floor move under my feet, you're in. (10/26/06)

The knife that cut me was expertly sharpened - the wounding was quick. It'll heal nicely, already starting to scab. But trauma like that is bound to leave a scar. Whenever I look at it, I'll remember. And I'll be damned if I don't learn something this time. It won't be much longer that I take seven steps back for every step that I take forward. One day I'll win this knife fight. And this particular demon is gonna die. Bless.

As for you, maybe your place on the pedestal wasn't completely wasted...you can be the one revered as the ghost that I finally learned from, and laid to rest...RIP.

NOW. Let's just wait and see if I can supress the urge to pick the scab.

Here's what strikes me the most:

The difference in reaction from one person to another. Some people you just instinctively trust. Others get your gaurd up so high, there is no way they're climbin' those walls. And you get to the point where you don't even feel apologetic about it.

I know I don't.

YOU LAUGH TOO LOUD...God, can I never win?



Check THIS out...

The focus of the lens was blurry, as was the focus of my eyes after having crawled out of bed just seconds before. I crack open a lid (yes, I open my eyes after rolling out...that's probably hazardous to my health, huh?) to find that the sky is blood red, doused with black clouds...and I am instantly, painfully, shriekingly awake... "Holy Crap!" then a lot of tripping and slipping and cursing until "yes!!" I found my camera and then "NOOOO!!" I found it with a dead battery. No worries, I will never be defeated for long... you can count on that. I scramble for the power cord, attach to camera, then to the closest outlet to the balcony. Picture me standing in the sliding glass doorway at 6 am holding my camera which is cradled on its port which is plugged into the wall, trying to be steady enough to capture five seconds of beauty. As you can imagine, I bite my lip through from concentration and several more foul words formed on my tongue before I got this...



I stood there in my bare feet, on my balcony that may well be tested for samples by the CDC, and...just what? I was just very still (odd) I just wasn't really thinking much (really?) and I was just very awake (amazing for the sleep to wake ratio that I continue to torture myself with.) I find that I worship these little things...and I am afraid. Adaptable to major change, but afraid, none the less. My biggest fear? Loss. Everything else, tied in somehow. But fear Will not always rule me, even if it is the only thing that I manage to do.

I stare, and breath, stare and breath to imprint, tatoo the image on my brain, sear the colors into my heart. I thank God for this, I ask him to continue such little blessings. Wonder what would happen if things changed...would I find them however I could, or would I let myself be destroyed along with the rest of the world...and I break. To rush into the shower. To shake my fist at the fairies that were supposed to come in the night to do my laundry, but didn't. I sigh when I think of prodding myself onto the cattle car of the subway, and then sigh again when I think of the day that's ahead of me. I continue my day in this vein with a lot of eye-rolling, impatient hand gestures, smart-mouthed comments, tapping fingers and wiggling feet. My only goal, make it to the end of the day so that I can distract myself with whatever I find interesting until I get to do it again...yikes, and again the next day.

FINE.

So I'm describing a large percentage of our society. I will never argue with you when you tell me that everyone does this. At some point. For some amount of time. Or, forever. Fine. And just so's ya know, there enough of the above tiny blessings in my life to keep me a very happy girl. Here's the point (finally!) I have much to be thankful for, a lot that I have been given, and a lot that I have been lucky enough to learn (without dying, going to jail, or...well you get it) But I also have a lot to give. Personally, professionally, spiritually. I know the time will come. Or rather, it's all just going to come busting out, and I'm sure in the strangest way. And I am patient...ish. I guess I feel the need to tell as many people as I can that I will do something, until I actually do it.

My proof? The pictures above. I was my biggest nay-sayer. I will always be. But I walked away from the no-ways and stays when I thought I couldn't. When I thought that it would
be easier to unearth my heart from behind my ribs and hand it back to them. I did. I walked away.

And I guess I will again. It'll be something huge that will inspire me to stay.

Love you, bigun.

All in all, I'm fairly proud of myself. But really, nothing can beat throwing bananas, fighting in bar parking lots, and wandering around the 'hood in nothin' but a robe, holding a painting...

I guess you could say that growing up and gaining perspective has its price, eh?

------------------------------------

It's a damn shock when we realize what we learned from fairytales and Barbies is all a hoax.

"Really? Huh. No white horse? Plenty of handsome men, driven and...wait, they're all self-absorbed idiots who chose work over growing up? Or carousing over building? Or power over love? Or easy over hard? And what do you mean Corvettes don't actually COME in pink? Right then, what you're telling me is, prince charming doesn't exist, there IS no castle, and those friggin' glass slippers I've had my eye out for since I was twelve...those were make believe?....Dammmmmmn it."

Some of us realize this earlier than others. Some of us will always believe and always be dissapointed. And some come to realize that you just have to make your own fairytales. Once you give in to the fact that it might take a little longer than you expect, you're all set. Prince Charming always seemed like a bit of a tool to me, anyway.

So that's ok. I'll wait.

Or rather, I'll try to Listen and create a life that I can be proud of. All I know to be true is that I'm having a hell of a lot of fun in the meantime.

When it all comes down to it, maybe it is a question of how much you mean to me.

Maybe you don't understand.

Fair enough. Now I'm telling you.

My love is strong, and pure. If I love you, I worship you for your strengths, and realize who you are for your weaknesses. Because I am such a potent mixture of both strength and weakness, I see the beauty even in the things that you hate about yourself. I am the one who will see the greatness in you, even when you hurt me. I will defend you, your right to be mixed up, anti-social, angry, sad, silly, skippingly happy, glaringly wrong or triumphantly right. Whatever in this world you could possibly feel is necessary to being you, I support you.

Once I have told you, there is still room to mess up. To disappoint. To annoy and ignore. Because when I say I love you forever, I mean forever. If I have claimed you as mine, a possession of my heart, which is rare, you will exist there always. Love is something that I was born to give, freely and generously with no exceptions. Relationships and friendships are existences that follow the tides. Sometimes full of warm, lolling waves and moon kissed waters. Sometimes waning and choppy, dark and cold. There is no way in our power to control the consistency of the surf, and where the waves will break. But that doesn't mean that we ignore the ocean...we jump in, embrace it, and just hope that we make it out alive. I've come to the point that I've made it out alive enough to know that, even if you hurt me, I will continue to live and live well.

Here is where I warn you:

It takes a strong person to love me back. I deal in respect, consideration, love, loyalty and honesty. All of these things are intertwined. Even if I love you eternally, if you hand me back anything less than what I give you, continually or maliciously or flippantly, I don't have room for you in my life. In my big and strong heart always, but not my life. I will always take care of myself, and if knowing you detracts from the complicated beauty of my life, than I just won't know you anymore.

I'm letting the thoughts in my head put themselves in order.

Then I'll think them.

We'll see how it goes from there.


I want to find the words, so that I can speak my feelings. Currently I wait for Music to pull tears from my eyes, or something beautiful or stark or simple to make my heart swell with whatever to the point of pain...I thought that I was constantly searching for things to make me feel...but it's starting to look like I'm looking for things to make me speak.

Is there really a difference?

Sooo o o o o o sleepy...

It may be the best thing, this being patient stuff. But it's damn BORING...

But I said I wanted it, didn't I?

Ya gotta keep telling me that, folks. Otherwise, this can only end in ruin. And me taking a serious look at cats for the collection.

What it all comes down to is this:

I LOVE my life.

I am in love with the fact that everyday I get to be myself, I get to struggle, to fight, to smile, to cry and laugh. I get to feel a full range of emotions and step in gum, fall off the last step of my spiral staircase when I'm late in the morning and yell at the lady who shoulder-checks me on the side walk. I love the stab of pure pain that I feel when a friend's kid tells me "It's time for you to come home...ok, that's fine, I think I can wait a month," and the rush of sheer delight that somebody misses me, somebody really cares that I am gone. All the more powerful that it's a five year old. I love that I can curse until my very lips turn blue over the fact that people who should know better, don't. Just the feeling of that ripe, juicy f**k squeezing itself from my upstanding vocabulary...bliss. It is the most amazingly beautiful confusion to have loved so hard, so fast and to still feel that love and have absolutely no idea what to do with it. And then to feel the hope and faith that I've known love, I know it's there, so I'm sure that I will find what I'm looking for again, or eventually. Whichever comes first. The sleepless nights that are caused by the terror over the state of the world, and the question of whether or not I will even get the chance to know the love that I'm looking for, that's meant to be in my life always, not just as a lesson. I get to taste the first bittersweet sip of coffee that is used to revive me from that night with no sleep. The exhilaration of busting my ass and and pausing long enough to see that I've done something. I love the assuredness in my soul that everything I do is for me and not them. I may have to nod and smile at the jackasses, but they can't have the script that I'm writing in my heart while I blind 'em with my grin. The first warmed honey feeling that slips through my veins when I can collect myself long enough to write, to relax, to sit down or wind up with my friends after that first cocktail and realize how wonderful things really are.

Everything. I love it. Just to feel. I love it. I can stand on my own two feet and breath, look around and be. A lot of it sucks. And damn if it isn't hard, everyday it get's harder. The lines blur just a little bit more. But even if it's bad, it means that I am HERE. Every moment that I am fully capable is a blessing.

By no means am I dropping the cynicism and getting all pollyanna-ish on you guys - two days from now I'm sure I'll have a proper rant over something worthless like how "people have no awareness of themselves in space, frikkin' A-MAZ-ING." But even those rants make life worth living.

UNFINISHED

I'm all ears
and I'm all doors
all open windows to my soul
with an invitation to
"come on in, love"
without even makin' you
wipe your feet on the threshold.
No worries. That's what I'm here for.

This was posted elsewhere a few months ago, but then I realized that some of you don't read there, so I'm posting it here.



I was out a couple of weeks ago at this place called the Beauty Bar, aptly named b/c it sports a full bar and a nail tech (no I'm not a Manhattanite pro, I just can't think of a better term) who will give you a manicure whilst you kick back with your friends and enjoy a nice cold Newcastle. Bliss.

I, unfortunately b/c my nails are RAGGED, did not partake in the spa moment, but I did meet a very interesting character. I'll set up the situation by telling you that my last words of the evening to this Man were "I wish I could have met you when you were sober." Ah, how many nights have I ended on that note? Anyhow, this guy was, well, what I consider the full package...minus the fact that he was listing-to-the-side-intoxicated...usually not enticing by any means, but this was an exception. What can I say, maybe my standards are slipping.

I pause for a moment to pose this question to you: when you are out at a bar, or in any social setting, what are the first few things out of your mouth when you meet someone? In Manhattan, there is actually a script. Good God, there must be, 'cause everyone you encounter asks you about the same thing "where are you from? Why are you here? What do you do?" I find that these questions are asked everywhere - they are a good way to find similar interests and people in common, but all in all, it's the lazy approach.

So, the aforementioned drunken package (take that term however you want) peered at me blearily when I got past his name (I have since forgotten it), asked him where he was from (New Zealand) and moved on to what he did for a living. "Right," he says, "the interview questions." and heaves a big sigh.

Huh.
I must say, that statement right there piqued my interest. I do love a challenge. Put on the spot like that and a little bit frazzled over having an intelligent, verbal sparing match with the human Leaning Tower of Pisa, the best rapid fire, indignant response I could come up with was "Fine! Then what's your favorite color?" Wha'? Who replaced me with the lame girl?
We managed a few more lopsided encounters, with me eye-checking my friends to keep them from intervening at one point when boy wonder actually started leaning on ME. His exit came when I had focused my attention on the bartender, turned back around, and found him vanished. Actually, Lindz said he stumbled away taking out several bystanders in his path, but the bar was busy and it took me awhile to get my beer so, to me, *poof* he was gone.
But what good is someone if they don't make you think? Here are my mental notes from this chance encounter:
1. Stop meeting men at bars (this doesn't count, it's on every list and it's really only worked out for me once)
2. Mix it up a little when meeting new people. If they're cool, they will play along when you ask them "what color are the walls in your apartment?" or "what was the name of your childhood teddy bear?" If they are not, they'll look at you like your head is on fire (a look that I am well acquainted with) and slap out of the boxing ring gracefully.
3. As I am a girl, my handle on the guy perspective is a little skewed. I try to put myself in their shoes, and sometimes I'm told that I should have been a guy 'cause I tend towards thinking and acting like one, but really I haven't a clue. What they must think when girls trot out the standard fare of introductory lingo...seems like they might be wondering why they felt like they were on a job interview instead of meeting a pretty girl.
4. From here on out, I will be disappointed if these questions come out of my mouth. I hereby pledge to ask guys questions that will allow me to get to know them, instead of sizing him up like a prospector inspecting a gold nugget.
Discuss amongst yourselves.

Do you like it like that?

Good.

Me too.


For the life of me, I cannot stave off that impatient nature...right NOW...
I want to make my "nature" tangible, and then shake it by the shoulders, slap it lightly about the face, douse it in cold water, and man, if that doesn't work, beat all hell out of it with a stick...whatever it takes to keep me from leaping before I look only to end up right back where I started. I would rather deal with the rocky shores of being alone than be back in the vast ocean of where I came from. That's a road that needs to be less traveled for me.

I want to reap the benefits without sewing the seeds that will lead to the REAL rewards - why am I such a pop-culture instant gratification no patience kinda kid?

I believe that God created the Fire that I am messing with.

I believe that I have been akin to an insolent teenager in my relationship with God. I've basically told him with my actions, or lack there of, and thoughts that "yeah, I get it. Higher power. You're in charge. I trust in You, here to do Your will, but I'm gonna do things my way first, 'k? Only to ask for you to pick me up and brush me off, set me in the right direction, every time I stumble and inevitably fall. Again and again."

Age old story really. "Nothing to see here, folks. Move it along." As humans we are equally cocky and needy, invincible and fragile, all knowing and without any damn answers at all. NO ONE knows what they are doing. Your best bet is to figure out how in this world to stand above it all, every day and every heartbeat. While it is a struggle for me to get out of bed each day, and stay out of it for the whole day - there is such a desire to leave my time stamp on this place that it's frightening. I am not scared of that passion. I am scared that I will never bring it to life, never hold its brand new head in the moonlight to sip at the atmosphere and the salty water that it would need to create the red blood and tough skin that it takes to survive.

If whatever this is stays stuck inside of me, it will die. I'm running out of things to feed it - it's growing tired of sampling the buffet of old bad habits and ridiculous rituals, drinking from the tonic of fear and laziness that I've been using to numb its fervor for years. It doesn't want to play with society's toys anymore; the offerings of beauty and money and SAMENESS are batted away, making it frustrated and enraged. Now it's become menacing, threatening to give up and lay down and wave the white flag of regret and resignation, fade away fitfully with the millions of other souls that have done this very thing.

If whatever this is dies, then...WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS THE POINT?

Some say faith. Some say money. Power. Making a difference. Making yourself happy. Making others happy.

Well once again I feel the buoyant need to welling up inside of me to scream "AHHH! Shut UP!" To all of those voices. I am tired of them clawing at me, distracting me, making me the poster child for adult ADD, leaving me feeling inadequate and empty. You may be reading this now and thinking "what is she ON about? Batty girl." And I am thinking that it is my desire to say "I don't care if you don't get it" that is pulling the polar opposite direction of my desire to make you all understand me. If I can't stop that tug of war then I will be nothing. that I am proud of. I want nothing if not to be unique. I enjoy the beat of my different drum, and I'd prefer to dance, not march, to it. Insert whining here "why's it gotta be so hard?"

Penney says that the world is gonna end.

Well, I say...

PONY UP! Let's get this shit done right!

Now that I've gotten the redneck outta my system...

I'm going to try and strive for NOT VAGUE. I know at least one person who will appreciate that. The rest of you might wish I would have let Pandora keep her box shut.

It is a blast to find out my only cousin has good, sensible, diverse taste in music. That way, if he's the only one left to take care of me and the cats when I get old, at least I can rest assured that my ears won't bleed or I won't be killed from boredom.

That's all I got.

Let's talk about anger for a minute. How sneaky, how elusive. How fucking destructive it can be. And then, while reflecting on anger, let's talk about love.

You want more?

Then tell me about anger.

'Cause I am at an absolute loss.

We toasted with rose champagne and ate blackberries to celebrate your existence, all the way up here in The City. I am so excited to meet you, little one. You and I are going to be fast friends.

If the actual event could invoke the feelings that the anticipation created, life would indeed be grand.

I live in a pretend world.
I may joke, call my existence parallel and extoll you with tales of talking to myself and how things happen in MY world...but really I'm not fooling...myself - I CREATE MY OWN UNIVERSE. And I am slowly beginning to avoid living in the "real" one all I can.

I can see
myself
calling out your
name
and meeting
a knowing glance.
Is it fair
that when it
rains
it pours?


Why do we have to kill the magic with reality? Will I always have to hold and see how long it'll be before the bomb drops?

That's exactly
what a muse is...
music
ambiance
and the gentleman barfly
touting a very interesting
prospect.

When exactly did I become a Gold Miner?

Awww! The Kids! Everybody, meet Ashley, Eric, and Tim. That's me on the right, for those of you who haven't seen me for awhile!

So I managed to get an internet signal for, oh, probably six seconds. Now watch, though. I'll write the prize-worthy prose of my life thus far and lose it all 'cause I'm still too cheap to get internet. *Knock on wood*...wait, is cheap IKEA furniture even made out of wood?

I have to say this. Because I can't control my mouth...what? At least I know...but I have to say that I really do hate you. I do. I hate you. Even though I believe that hate is wasted energy. Even though I understand that hate indicates true, deep feelings, whatever those may be. I do. It'll go away and I'll read this years from now and laugh and be embarassed that I was so intense, once again. But I've never really been one to deny how I feel. Why start now?

K, now that I've gotten that outta the way...

By the way, I'm scheming. And by scheming I do mean planning and biding my time until I get what I came here for. If nothing else, being surrounded by all that surrounds me makes me salivate over what I want even more. And ya'll know me when I'm hungry. I drool. tehe. Or I indulge in what I want.

There are definite benefits to knowing what I want. Cheers to being an only child.

The spell check isn't working right now. Forgive me.

What right do I have to lose hope? To lose faith in myself?

Who am I to not do everything in my power to live the life that I know I'm supposed to live? When the only struggle that I face is a struggle against myself?

I am gut-wrenchingly tired of hiding from myself.

"Eddie, huh?
And you're a Marine?
Right. I gotta go. "

I swear to you I have radar.

Happiness of the day:
A new little person has been added to our extended family list. Welcome, Lillian Claire Kibler! You're just here, and there are so many that love you already. Bless, baby girl!

Saddness of the day:
Stace, it's so hard. I'm here for you babe, and we're keeping your Grandma in our thoughts. I love you.


You broke with your pattern
you want to let flow
the trillions of addicts
that make you so slow.
Each love that you're scared of,
each failure you meet
passes you the handcuffs
with a smile, so sweet.
Daggers will cut you
boulders will sway
only to tempt
all the passion away.
Chains will embrace you
and although you weep
your best bet for freedom
is getting to your feet.
Champion of nothing
but master of all
when beauty and charm lose,
what will save you from The Fall?
You can't stand the darkness
the light burns your eyes
grey areas create patterns
and no one will ever be the wise.
It all may destroy you,
your hard earned facade.
But do you want the world to lose you
and not even feel odd?

As the tears
penetrate the Level V
of my eyes,
the Pureness of
the First
Raw
un-thought of emotion
rolls down my cheeks,
Recklessly abandoning
The spirit of my
stubborn, sacred rigidness.
Finally, I am spent.

There is nothing so powerful as letting the walls fall down.

Even if only for a slip of time. Even if only in the dark, alone. Ironically, being alone in the dark with no walls makes me want to laugh, and cry, and lay my cheek against your heart...maybe not again, but definitely someday.

How's that for vague, Monkey?

Thanks to William and the Girls for a beautiful evening. My heart is too big to pin on my sleeve, filled as it is with love for this City. Filled as it is...my memories will always warm me.

I slept away the better part of yesterday...

Woke up long enough to speak to my Mom, and what did I tell her, of all the things I did yesterday?

I held a baby.
Might not mean anything to you, but it's Miracle Grow for my mind, apparently.

Well, the discovery was delayed, but I've finally found what Broadway shows are all about. The are all about FABULOUS! Yea, I said it. I was skeptical at first, but they really are quite magical. We saw The Odd Couple the first night, and it was flippin' hilarious. The energy between the actors, the detail of the sets, the reverence and tradition of the theatre goers...I'm tellin' you some of those people took this VVVERY seriously. The best thing was, I knew one of the actors (Mike Starr, who played Murray) and I got to see him on his second night with the show!! We went to see Rent the next night, and there are very few times that I can say something like that has made my face leak...literally, tears with no effort what so ever, they just CAME OUT. It was so beautiful, so passionate and sweet. What talented, amazing people.

I'm fighting all of the old demons, full force. Some I feel like I have under control...ummm, kind of, and others are really winning the battle. I feel like I've got the war all sewed up though, so I won't be too picky.

It's supposed to snow again tonight. I find myself looking for it every five seconds, because the first moments of snow freeze time. Makes everything quiet. It all stops, just for a fraction of an instant, and it is blissful. The flakes are fat and soft, feathery, like down from an angel's wing. Now I know I'm not caught smack in the middle of the bunches of snow storms back to back, so that's why I still like it now. Catch me next month when I'm bitterly cursing every particle of the white condensation.

I'm getting strong enough to face it all. I'm just becoming quite curious as to what "it" will be.