Sunday, December 31, 2006
The widest, longest blade of grass is most likely still bigger than the small valley in my heart. As I look back I understand that the events of that summer seem small and in reality have only shaped a part of what I am. Yet, I find the small things to be the most meaningful. Somewhere between June and September life fell into place. If it happened because of my own inevitable development, or the particular consequences of my situation, I'll never know. No one will know. June and September, like bookends or two pieces of white American bread packaged a piece of me into existance. Whiel I seemingly found myself, I'm sure that somewhere in Russia another young girl did the same. Or be it Belize, Zimbabwe, or the Phillipines. Life goes on. ONe realization after another, rolled into a big ball of being. And billions of those balls bouncing together in a great big ball orbiting the sun. My mother and father love me, this I know. I will grow old and maybe have babies. June and September, only a piece of who I am, and maybe only a trillionth of life on this planet. June and September happened because they had to, along with July and August. Maybe the occurances of that time happened because they had to as well.
Make believe and pretend.
Happy New Year, folksies.
Make believe and pretend.
Happy New Year, folksies.
