In My 20s, I Railed

Every Day A Question Mark.

I Knew Something As I Watched: Almost Everyone Was Saying Goodbye To Me. I Was Becoming One Of The Many Little-girl-losts. They Would Go Back To Their Homes And Put Me To Rest, A Letter From The Past Never To Be Reopened Or Reread. And I Could Say Goodbye To Them, Wish Them Well, Bless Them Somehow For Their Good Thoughts. A Handshake In The Street, A Dropped Item Picked Up And Retrieved And Handed Back, Or A Friendly Wave From The Distant Window, A Nod, A Smile, A Moment When The Eyes Lock Over The Antics Of A Child.

Heaven Is Comfort, But It's Still Not Living.

Like Snowflakes,' Franny Said,'none Of Them The Same And Yet Each One, From Where We Stand, Exactly Like The One Before

One Thing About Failing Repeatedly: If You're Still Doing It After You've Failed That Much, You Really Mean It.