A Daughter Without Her Mother

It Was The Magic Hour, The Moment In Time When Every Leaf And Blade Of Grass Seemed To Separate, When Sunlight, Burnished By The Rain And Softened By The Coming Night, Gave The World An Impossibly Beautiful Glow.

If I Have Learned Anything In This Long Life Of Mine, It Is This: In Love We Find Out Who We Want To Be; In War We Find Out Who We Are.

The Falling Apart Of A Man's Life Should Make More Noise. It Should Startle Passesrby With Its Sturm And Drang. It Ought To Sound Like The Parthenon Crashing Down. Not This Ordinary, Everyday Kind Of Quiet...he Closed His Eyes...and Still It Was Quiet, This Falling Apart Of His Life, As Silent As The Last Beat Of An Old Man's Heart. A Quiet, Echoing Thud, And Then...nothing.

Memories Are Who We Are. In The End, That's All The Luggage You Take With You. Love And Memories Are What Last.

Nothing Was Easier To Shatter Than The Fragile Shield Of An Idealist.