I am suffocating in this vast mountain valley. With The Great Outdoors just steps from my front door, all I want to see is concrete and asphalt. Instead of snow capped mountaintops I want to look up and see glass-laden buildings. I want to live on a tiny island that's dirty and expensive and spectacular, in a tiny studio, where a million people all try to hail the same cab. I need to get to that island. I need to head east. I need to say "So long, I'm going to the Concrete Jungle."
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Fourteen years ago on this day my two oldest brothers died. The years since then have withered away. I am older now, and I like to think I am wiser than that sixteen year-old, though I cannot always see it. For eleven of those years, January 6th was sad and gloomy and reproachful. Then my nephew was born on the twelfth January 6th they'd been gone, and named Thomas Andrew for his uncles who left this life that day. And thanks to him, the day is no longer so sad or gloomy, and is not at all reproachful.
|Thomas looking at a balloon|
Posted by Anonymous at 4:26 PM