The ugliest things in life come to us when we are left alone. But also sometimes the most beautiful. So, I feel the most human when I bang my soul on the hardest shadows of night. You? 34 is a strange number. Ask Jesus. I wonder if he knew. Of course he did. That is why he was who he was. To me, hope is the thing resting in the dark box where we fear to place our hand—like thoughts of something squishy in the black that clutches timid fingers in cold menacing nights. Do you possess that faith integral to grasping blindly in the dark? Gather yourself to do it, and you might find light. This is the story of the Garden of Gethsemane. Strength. Faith. Love. Darkness. Acceptance. All the while a cold moon watching. Her box sits silently before me, a gaping hole in the center of her face. With my eyes, I gently brush the sides of her flowers. I leave restless breath like a fly on a chain with minutes to live. If my one and only love moves on from this world, my children and I will only know a beginning, not an end. Corporeal emotion will flood our eyes, drowning our hearts with the rise of purple dreams. Amy lives in the color purple, except for winter when oak trees cover her soul. Only I and her mother know this. This is why we move apart but connected beneath quietly broken moments of moons and chill breezes at midnight over the blue shores of the Lake. We may need to spend time together in the tangible sense once Amy is gone. These are the thoughts that encompass my days. Amy drinks up her three-week medicine again, and I know that more of it waits. Like a falling star she shoots through my sky, and like a child’s kiss on an afternoon of golden sunlight she sends me into this world. She always has and always will. I am young but not. Waves move through me that originate in places I have never been. There is the smell of oak and of children’s breath in the night. I love my children more than my own gifts of life. My gifts live in color when I let them move forth. I have yet to truly be there. I wait to grow older, and I only hope. I only hope she lives there with me, holding my tired heart in her genuine hands. I am in awe of what we are given here. We have to go somewhere after our bodies, and everyone feels that. It simply depends on how we resolve to interpret our stay. God bless, and I love you, Amy. See you soon.

Warren

P.S. Amy is o.k. She is just away for work this week. That is what I mean by being left alone. Do not worry. She is pretty sick from chemo but is overall doing relatively well.

Warren

We cherish messages from our visitors. Take a moment to write a note in our guestbook or read entries from others.