*If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, then you know how I like to completely overwhelm your senses with words and music. So, if you want to experience this the way I intend for you to, then please press play on this video before you begin reading. And maybe grab a box of tissues.
My father has not been well. It has been a hard thing to come to terms with emotionally. Our certain mortality. Our fragile humanity. We are all born with an expiration date. So I have decided to hold him lightly like a wild bird that I have found and been able to hold and see its beauty up close if only for a minute. I will commit to memory every detail and paint them in my heart with the beauty and pain of blood and love. I cannot hold him tightly for he is not mine to keep, and it would hurt too much when he is pulled from my hands.
We didn't always get along. He was a younger man full of strong opinions and stronger words and I was a younger girl full of my own ideas and a will made of steel, unwilling to bend for anything other than my own fickle whims. We fought brilliantly, both of us being disposed to passionate dispositions yet never seeing eye to eye. It wasn't until marriage and children began to tie my wild and restless heart to the ground and life and age had dealt him a few heavy blows that I realized he was perhaps the only other person in the world that felt and saw things as intensely as I did. Because I WAS him, and he was me, in part anyway. Both of us sharing our own colorful blend of the mysterious and creative DNA that comprises us.
Time softened our sharp edges and we have fallen into a most lovely and tender relationship. I have said that I was sorry for who I was once and he has said the same and we moved beyond the hurt of the past that can grip people until their deaths and never really let them be free to love. We have rewritten the story and decided how it will be because this is our one life and our choice.
in the past few months we have spent some time together and I have had the immense privilege of bearing witness to his discovery of a new passion. He has taken up painting, and while we all knew he was a very talented artist (that's how me made his living, in another form, for most of his life), I don't think we were prepared for the excellence that would seem to flow effortlessly from his mind to the brush at the end of his fingers. Watching someone attempt and execute something so brilliantly again and again is nothing short of a gift and I feel truly special to have been privy to the process. He is giving the world the beauty that resides within him. Ultimately, I think that is a part of each of our purpose in this life: to share the beauty we have with the world. To leave it a more beautiful place in some way.
During his most recent visit as we were riding in the car together, he leaned in and said quietly "Jill, whatever you do, finish that book. You have a gift. It's just a gift. Please finish it." You see, I'm in the process of writing a book meant for children but one that can help anyone. It began as an idea one day, a colorful string in my mind that I started to pull at until it unravelled into something wonderful that I knew wasn't even from me, but something bigger than me, and that I must put to paper. So some months ago, I began the process of weaving the fragments of thought and strings of words into something cohesive, into the finished product that I saw in my mind. It has proven more difficult than I envisioned and has evolved into something even bigger than I originally thought. And at times, I have let the details of life overwhelm me and the book took a seat on the back burner of my mind.
I spent a lot of time thinking about that. About finishing that book. I will finish it, I AM finishing it. But what if I was struck by a truck and killed today? What would I leave behind? My life recently has had much talk of death and I realize that we all must leave a legacy behind, wether we do so consciously or not. We leave a watermark of ourselves upon the hearts and minds of those we touched, or hurt, or loved. Every day you are impressing upon others an unseen image of yourself. We will all one day be memories, what kinds will we be?
And I wondered if I had done anything worth remembering, and was struck with a sharp pain of sadness and regret because of all of the many things I had begun and not finished in my lifetime. I felt as though all the many colors and beautiful bursts of feeling and heart that happen within me at any given moment, and that I am meant to share with the world, would go down hidden within the craggy depths of my mind and lie forever unrevealed, never sharing their beauty with another soul. And that thought was almost more than I could bear. But then, like dappled patches of sunlight dancing upon the forest floor through a canopy of trees, beautiful memories began to come to me.
I have written on this blog for almost ten years now, birthing from my heart for you to have and hold, the innermost revelations of my mind. People still write to me to tell me how some bit of my soul that I shared years ago will come to their mind from time to time. I have laughed with someone who was sad until the sadness left and I have loved with 100% of my heart always because I don't know any other way to love. I have written and directed many plays for children based upon some of my favorite stories of the Bible. I've facilitated writer's groups and initiated a tropical island's first ever Story Slam.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that even if all the threads in my mind never fully materialize for the rest of humanity, I have left my watermark. I have been one small ripple in the great big lake of life, and my ripple has reached out and touched people who made ripples of their own, who will keep making more ripples that stretch out into the horizon until we can no longer see or know the effect we have but which is a fact that makes it no less real.
Yesterday two people from my writer's group in Guam reached out to me to express how they were in some way carrying on the legacy of the group I began years ago and how it had helped them step outside of their comfort zones and meet and work with people that they perhaps never would have. And that, that thing is living on in ways all its own. That realization made me cry. The fact that all the while I never felt like I had really accomplished anything worthwhile or hadn't made any significant contribution to the world in terms of art or passion or creativity, but when all along I had been in small ways without ever realizing it.
When my great-grandmother died two years ago at the age of 97, I pondered her legacy. She lived from 1917-2014; a beginning and an ending and that dash in between was her life. That dash is our life.
That dash is our life.
And as I thought about the impermanence and ephemeral qualities of life, I was again reminded with great affection and tenderness how very beautiful it is, at times excruciatingly so. The gentle sway of new leaves in the spring breeze. The contagious belly-laugh of a child. The symphonic dance of a flock of birds in the autumn sky. The age-mottled hand of your parent in your own, theirs once so big and yours once so small, like an acorn and now an oak. We are nothing more than waves on the sandy beach of this life, one generation guiding in the new and the new becoming the old and ushering out the one that guided us in.
Even if I never write another thing, I am confident in the truth that I have left nothing unsaid between anyone whom I love and I have lived this dash so far with complete passion and in a quest for beauty and truth and to share all that I have found with whoever will hear and see it. And I know that in some small ways it has been fruitful.
Live your dash. Don't wait until someone is dead to eulogize them, call them today and tell them what they mean to you and all the ways they are lovely and good. Smile at a stranger. Be kind to animals and children and even grumpy old men. Stop what you're doing and be still and listen to the breeze and the birds. Leave your watermark in the shape of a heart.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
*If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, then you know how I like to completely overwhelm your senses with words and music. So, if you want to experience this the way I intend for you to, then please press play on this video before you begin reading. And maybe grab a box of tissues.
Posted by Jillian at 3:22 PM
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
When I was in middle school we had to run a mile for PE class. As everyone else finished, they gathered on the bleachers by the track and waited for the rest of us. Or should I say, they waited for me. I was THE. VERY. LAST. ONE. I went home and cried that day because more than anything I wanted to be a runner and I couldn't even finish a mile. I was never athletic, didn't play sports, and wasn't what anyone would call skinny. I was frequently sick, bookish, and clumsy...but, by God I had a quick wit, so I didn't totally suck. I never went on to run as a youth, after all, running was hard, and like most people, I had an aversion to difficulty. And then, four years ago, I moved to Guam and something changed. I became a runner. Last May I completed The Great Wall Marathon. Me, the chubby girl who couldn't finish the mile in eighth grade, finished the THIRD HARDEST MARATHON in the WORLD. (without injuries, I might add...that's something to be proud of)
During the course of the last few years I have learned so much about myself through running. I want to share some of those things with you. Because, maybe you are like I was: you want to, but you just don't think you can. Listen to me, (I never lie...except on birthdays and at Christmas): YOU TOTALLY CAN.
*Listed in order from most vain to most meaningful
1) Running gives you pretty skin.
Ever since Ye Olde Puberty I have struggled with "difficult" skin. Running increases your circulation and most people drink more water when they do it, so that helps flush out the yucky stuff. See how scientific that was? I should debate Bill Nye! Now, I can't solely credit running with that transformation. Around the time I began running, I drastically changed my diet and that played a huge factor in my overall health. As a matter of fact, I got rid of a mysterious autoimmune condition that puzzled doctors and made me sick for several years. You can read more about it here.
2) Running helps you lose weight
Like I said, I've never been what anyone would call "skinny". I've been referred to as "healthy", "curvy", "baby manatee" (thanks, Dad) and "pudge" (Dad again). I carry most of my "healthy" in the second third of my body and have a hard time getting rid of it. Running regularly, coupled with crossfit and diet change, helped me get down to the leanest I have ever been in my life.
3) Running helped me to shatter my own preconceived ideas about women.
Because the ads in magazines and on TV featuring female runners always show a super thin, young and beautiful woman, I assumed that's how they all looked. I know, dumb, but I think many of us are unaware how much marketing influences our thoughts, if even subtly. My running group was comprised of runners of all ages and sizes. Some were fast and some were slower, but they all had one thing in common: they were runners.
In the words of Legally Blonde's Elle Woods: Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people don't shoot their husbands, they just don't.
5) Running creates a strong heart and lungs.
Like I mentioned earlier, I was a sickly child and teenager. Before ninth grade I got pneumonia (I spelled that without spellcheck, HEY-O!) and I had chronic bronchitis as I got older. On top of all that I had a heart murmur and mitral valve prolapse. After running, weight-lifting, and dietary change, not only can I hold my breath for a really long time, but any trace of the heart murmur and prolapse is gone and I very rarely get sick anymore. Your heart is a muscle, folks. Make it a strong one.
6) Running taught me self-discipline.
This is a big one for me. Even though I wasn't blessed with athletic ability or natural gracefulness, books and school came very easily for me. I rarely had to study to make A's and I was always on the Dean's List in college. The things I did came easy and so I never really had to make myself DO anything. Running changed all of that. Guam was so hot that we had to start running at 5 or 5:30 in the morning and races began even earlier. For the first time in my life, I was frequently the first one awake in the house. Up before even the sun and roosters, having my coffee with the geckos and jungle sounds. I believe a lack of self-discipline is one of the root problems that prevent people from achieving their goals. We are often our own worst enemies.
7) Running taught me goal-setting.
This one kind of goes hand-in-hand with the previous point, but it still needs to be noted. Setting goals was extremely crucial to my success and I have to credit my coach in Guam (Hafa Adai, Matt!) with teaching me that fitness isn't all about how you look. He challenged me not to set physical goals for myself like a certain number on the scale or a size in clothes. Instead, he suggested we set athletic goals for me to accomplish and beat. This was a game-changer. For the first time in my life, someone told me I could be "athletic", even if that meant setting a number of squat jumps or miles per hour to beat against MYSELF. It was only ever against myself. Like I mentioned before, up until that point, life had been easy for me. I'm not a competitive person by nature, I want everyone to win. BUT...seeing my previous record and then shattering it gave me a very empowering sense of accomplishment and that translated into every aspect of my life ultimately making me a better human.
8) Running taught me to push myself.
Like I said, most people have an aversion to difficulty. It's just human nature. The body hurts, it says stop, and we listen. It's normal to want to take the easiest route. But guess what I learned through running (and some really difficult patches in life)? Usually the harder way is more rewarding. In order to run further or run faster, I had to push my body out of its comfort zone, and it hurt. I'm not going to lie. There were times (like this morning) that my lungs and legs burned and my heart was pounding, but I was determined to run all the way home faster than the previous time. General George Patton said the following: Now if you are going to win any battle you have to do one thing. You have to make the mind run the body. Never let the body tell the mind what to do. The body will always give up. It is always tired- morning, noon, and night. But the body is never tired if the mind is not tired.
9) Running enabled me to be a better role model for my daughters.
I have two daughters. They are amazing little creatures and I knew after my last bout with my autoimmune condition that I had to make some serious changes in my life, for them, for me, for all of us. I wanted them to know that keeping your body strong and healthy is nearly as important as exercising the mind. I wanted them to see me overcome myself and perhaps someday use those memories to help them push through their own personal struggles. I wanted to be more than love for them. I wanted to be strength as well. My husband would bring them to my races and when I would see them waiting for me and cheering me on at the finish line, my eyes would instantly tear up and I would be overcome with such a vast and intense array of emotions, only a woman and mother could fully comprehend them. Running, and distance running in particular, is about perseverance. And so many times as is the case with life, our most difficult moments are the ones that require us to persevere when it hurts and when it is hard. My running showed my girls that they can persevere.
10) Running taught me that I can overcome myself.
Nearly every time I run I think about middle-school Jill. I think about how impossible and painful a thing running seemed to be and how when I cried in my room that day, long ago, and thought I would never be able to do it, that I was giving in to my own lying voices. We are always at war with our thoughts. They lie to us constantly A wise man once said, "the mind is the greatest battlefield upon which we will ever fight." Before my marathon as we stood huddled together in the early morning light of the Chinese countryside with the enormity of The Great Wall looming before us, I was afraid, so very afraid. My own lying voices told me I wouldn't be able to finish, and that it would hurt so much. I thought about my daughters and I remembered eighth grade Jill and I told the voices to SHUT UP because I was going to FINISH THIS. And after hours of grueling stairs and breathtaking views, I finally crossed the finish line in Yin-Yang square and put the negative voices to death for good. Because I CAN do whatever I set my mind to accomplish, and if I can, then you certainly can too. There are moments when I wish I could travel back in time to my eighth grade bedroom in rural Pennsylvania. I would place my Great Wall medal in my younger self's hands and tell her, "don't worry, you'll never believe what you're going to do one day."
Posted by Jillian at 12:54 PM
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Yesterday I decided to give up Facebook. This decision came on the heels of some recent heated exchanges between people of very different opinions than myself after I posted remarks they happened to disagree with. It's not very often that my anger is stirred...I've come a long way since High School where I would have dealt violently with any heated exchange. No, seriously, I did.
I realized something during these exchanges. Something most people probably already know but I suppose took me longer to really grasp. People treat each other differently when they're separated by a screen. Let's blame the evil blue light. But it's true. And for someone who values personal authenticity and kindness above most things, that was a painful thing to realize. I became obsessed with reading the vitriolic rants between people on the comments section of news articles. I didn't understand how we arrived at this place. A place where it was ok to talk to each other that way. A place where all the ways our parents taught us to be kind to one another was lost. A place where people were reduced to a tiny square profile picture and could hide behind their relative anonymity and hurl their hate like poop from monkey's butt. Yes, I just went there. Because that's how it feels. Ugly. So I decided to end it. When the thing you love no longer brings you joy, let the thing go.
The first hour I felt almost giddy. I deleted the Facebook app off my iPhone and yet I found myself mentally wanting to pick it up and check it every few minutes like some Pavlovian dog, looking for her electronic reward. No. There would be no more scrolling through feed filled with adorable animal videos, daily play-by-plays (those are the worst), political this or thats, or pictures of children and selfies of their parents. No more. I was done. Really, really done. I made a decision to be completely present with whatever I was doing and whomever I was with.
I made dinner with my eldest daughter and we talked about cooking. I taught her how to make Chicken Saltimbocca. And in doing so, a great truth became revealed to me: My obsession with Facebook had fractured my life into a million pictures and blurbs about life, but my REAL LIFE had been reduced to something less than authentic. I was never fully present because I was always looking for the quote or the perfect photo. As a writer, mentally collecting moments to later capture on paper isn't an uncommon thing, but it is something that I used to do alone, and in one fell swoop. Smart phones and instant access to everyone caused me to interrupt real life over and over and over again in the attempt of capturing it. But all I was really doing was stopping it from happening organically. "WAIT! Let me take your picture!" "Hold on, I have to put that on Facebook!" "Just a minute, I want to read these comments." "SELLLLLLFIEEEE!"
In my attempt to stay connected to people, I became disconnected from the perfect minutia of my real life. The only one I will ever have. That realization of that truth both hurt deeply and set me gloriously free from the bond I had with Facebook. I saw so many moments pass before my mind's eye that I missed because I was never wholly there. I vowed not to let that happen again. I would delve wholly into the minutia, the details of my daily life and I would find joy there.
I drank too much wine at dinner, probably because I'm just a fast drinker and probably because I was excited about my new journey into Complete Presentness, I just coined that term (I think), feel free to use it. (and this is where I feel compelled to enter an emoji, because that is what I have been reduced to. ) I went to the bathroom without my phone. This was kind if a big deal. I then remembered that before smart phones, I put books on the back of the toilet for those very occasions. Oh yeah! Books are for reading, not just decoration! WHO KNEW?!
I walked the dog with my daughter and we found a huge feather. I did not take a picture of it because memories don't have to be stored in a phone, hearts are good for that too. I watched the season finale of Game of Thrones with my husband, while our six year old kept knocking on the door and telling us that she "just can't sweep, because I'm not tired" to which we yelled back through the locked door ""too bad! It's past nine o'clock, get back in bed!". I suppose some things will never change. I left before the show ended because I knew what was going g to happen (thanks to Facebook) and couldn't bear to watch. I went to bed and read some of a book instead of looking at my phone. I used to read things, BIG THINGS! I mentally reclaimed my time to read books.
I woke up this morning and noticed that so many people had text me through the night, and I realized something. If people care about each other, they find a way to connect with them, wether it be through a phone call or text or letter. Hokey as it may sound, love will find a way. And it does. And it did. So for now, I relish the freedom that quitting Facebook has afforded me. My mother says that this will wear off and it will get hard not to go back, but I am a very stubborn person and sometimes I can use that power for good. I guess we shall see.
Posted by Jillian at 12:22 PM
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Posted by Jillian at 2:36 PM
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Posted by Jillian at 1:46 PM
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Sleep. That thing we hated to do as kids but pine for as adults. It's strange, really. Our bodies need so much of it, to heal, to grow, to rest. And yet it seems that the older I got, the harder it became for me to get good, quality sleep. The kind where you actually wake up in the morning feeling refreshed.
I blame my children, because (for one) I have to get some blaming of my own in before they grow up and blame me for everything bad in their lives! Those kids! Always ruining my fun AND spotless floors! My insomnia took a turn into scary sleep-deprivation territory during the sixth month of my first pregnancy. This wasn't your typical get out of bed a hundred times a night to pee because you're pregnant, on top of that I had heartburn so bad that I couldn't lie down flat. And in case you're wondering, YES she was in fact a hairy baby. But don't worry, she has grown into a lovely not-so-hairy girl. So during this phase it got so bad that my OB prescribed me Ambien. Yes, while pregnant. I was desperate.
And you parents know the drill. The baby finally arrived and we entered a Brave New World of sleeplessness, but at least now we had something to display to account for our crazy-eyes. My husband deployed four weeks after our first daughter was born and I (once again) moved back in with my parents. Though I still didn't sleep well, I somehow made a routine that worked and time passed.
Fast forward a couple of years and baby number two was headed our way. If you've been reading this blog for any length of time then you know that I had complications during that pregnancy that caused me to lose sight and have our baby a few weeks early during what I thought was just a visit home to Indiana. You can read about that by clicking HERE and HERE aaaaaaaand HERE. At one point doctors thought I had toxoplasmosis (which is gross and scary) in my eye and that's what was causing my blindness and infections, BUT... since then I have been told it is some form of autoimmune reaction, to what we do not yet know. But my eye apparently hates me and wants to leave. I've offered to poke it out if it doesn't straighten up, and apparently my threats worked because it hasn't reactivated in three years, THANK GOD!
During that time though I began researching my health and came across a way of eating called paleo, which you can also read about at length if you scroll back through posts on this blog. In a nutshell, it eliminates the most common inflammation-causing foods. Changing the way that I ate changed my health and I firmly believe that is the reason why my eye hasn't flared up since then. But…despite those positive changes (and they really have been amazing, beyond just my eye's health) I still suffered from my chronic insomnia. I really think that being on subconscious alert for noises coming from a baby monitor for years on end through two back to back children does give you some form of parental PTSD. Sneeze or shuffle your feet under the covers and I'm all: WHOISITAND WHATDOYOUNEED?!?! And so I took drugs to sleep. Again. But the odd thing about it was that the sleep they afforded me still didn't seem completely restful. This had been going on for five years and I was pretty sick of it. Jeremy liked to lecture me about my phone and how blue light kills melatonin and how HE KNOWS BECAUSE NIH TOLD HIM SO!!!! To which I would always reply by pulling the covers off of him and telling him to hush while I looked at my phone under the covers.
And then we moved across the world again and he deployed again and I moved back to my parent's…again. All these huge life changes not only added a lot of stress to my life, but they threw my sleep into an even bigger maelstrom. New bed, new house, new sounds, new time zone ALL THE WAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD. I completed my third Whole30 (which is a very strict form of paleo intended to reset the body and eliminate more problem foods). If interested, you can read about that HERE and HERE. I was able to finally stop the sleep meds for a while but my sleep still felt fitful and I would wake feeling like I wasn't rested. So. Over. It. They call it Beauty Sleep for a reason, and I wasn't getting it.
Among the kabillion other changes we made when we got home, I joined a gym and hired a personal trainer (because I like to pay people good money to yell at me and make me do painful things, I blame my father) I talked to him about some of my nutrition and health issues and he referred me to Austin Dossey, who was the first person EVER that I had talked to who understood what I was saying about the connection with food and inflammation. Do you know how awesome that is after doctors and the majority of your family blow you off and act like you're crazy for years? They're all: Shhhhh, don't start talking to Jillian about food, she's got some "unorthodox" ideas about how it can actually impact your health. THE NOTION!! PSHAW!
I talked about my insomnia and how I felt that my lack of productive sleep was really a big factor to my seeming inability to ever feel really good despite my dietary changes. He recommended I take some supplements and change a few things, which I will lay out for you in detail. YOU GUYS! I have to tell you, it all worked! I did everything he said, some of which I had never heard of and some I already knew but I guess was just never desperate enough to do (*cough* get rid of the phone in bed*cough*). I have been sleeping-medication free for a week now and not only is that a triumph but something unheard of has happened: As soon as I fall asleep, I don't wake up again until morning, meaning I don't even remember turning over (I am a chronic pillow flipper, COLD SIDE RULES!). I literally fall asleep and wake up in the morning like a doe-eyed Disney princess sprinkling cheer like glitter at a kindergarten craft party. Ask my husband, ask anyone who knows me, I don't do that. I am the evil, scowling morning person. At least until the second cup of coffee.
I thought that was just my personality. Morning bitchy lady. I have snarled at my husband for being too cheerful before I had coffee, but I now think it was because I was never truly rested.
So here is what Austin recommended I take and what I did:
Multi-vitamins with Relora
Stop using blue light in bed (this includes iPhones, iPads, computer screens) I am sooooo going to hear about a year's worth of I TOLD YOU SO's from my husband but HE WAS RIGHT!
Get out of bed when your body wakes up, this allows your body to develop natural circadian rhythms. For me, this had been around 5:45 every morning.
Stop drinking alcohol…this was hard. I like my wine. And I confess I had some this weekend, but I didn't sleep as well as the nights without it.
Eliminated caffeine after 3'oclock
It seems (from a plethora of late-night Facebook statues) that many people I know suffer from the same affliction as I did. I wrote this in the hope that it might help someone out there. Someone who is tired of being tired.
Posted by Jillian at 2:37 AM
Thursday, March 6, 2014
If I am being completely honest (which I usually am, it's a sort of curse) then I must confess that I neither like you nor your species. But, over the past several weeks I have observed your life with a morbid curiosity since you took up residence on the post outside my window.
I misjudged you. Though still terrifying and nightmarish, you aren't the complete monster I presumed of you. You would work tirelessly every morning to repair your web with fastidious dedication, and then…you would wait, still and silent, and with the patience of Job. Your legs outstretched in pairs, making it look as if you only had four, a trick perhaps or was it just more comfortable that way? When your unsuspecting lunch or dinner would come flying into your stringed trap of viscosity, you attacked with lightning speed. This was the part that always disgusted me, I reduced you to a merciless killer. I would watch in horror as you put to death and mummified insect after insect. But I suppose we all have to eat, and just like you, I too feed on things that were once living. I'm just far removed from the killing process. My food comes to me already dead and wrapped. You are the butcher and the diner at your own feast.
As I watched you kill, I began to realize that you are not as merciless as I had presumed. You would complete the process as swiftly as possible and my respect for your kind grew, if only a little. Don't get me wrong though, I'm not inviting you or your family for tea. We still aren't friends. But perhaps I understand you better.
And now after countless sunups and glorious flaming orange and pink ocean sundowns (to which you have had an excellent vantage point by the way), I see that you are dying. Your web has remained in broken disrepair for several days now and you lie in a crumpled heap in the middle of it. Your normally outstretched legs curled inward and sideways. Your body moves only occasionally but it is sharp and spastic as if a convulsion of pain has overtaken it. I am watching you die with what I realize is sadness. You are all alone in your broken web. And I want to tell you that you were not all alone. I watched you and I observed your life. I resisted the urge to smash you, an urge which comes from a very instinctive place I might add. It is almost knee-jerk for me to kill your kind. Your life was short and still and at times, supremely violent. You hung silent above the green grass where my children run barefoot and laughing. We saw the same stars at night, only you saw them with so many more eyes, I wonder what that looked like.
Goodbye little spider.
Posted by Jillian at 3:50 AM