Things will come and go. It never stops. Always, happening. Because it can. Because the world is an indian giver and does this to everyone and you are no exception.



You will be given life. It will be taken away.

You will be given love, and that too shall be taken away.

You will be given pride, identity, justice, and at some time or another, you will lose all of those things too.



Get over it. Live in spite of that and dream like it will never happen.



Should I tell you of Mr. Geiger? A man so full of hope and love and goodness bound, indeed. A carpenter by trade, a husband and father by nature. And then, without reason or explination, Mother Nature walked in to his life and said, "What are these things you call legs? Alright, give 'em up Bob, I'm taking them back."

So now he rides in wheel chairs. But you know, he is much happier now. Learned to appreciate the things he did have, learned to not take things for granted.


And Jared. Young boy, gifted man. Wrote like hell and drank like it too. You know, he never thought there would come a day that the pen he held wouldn't relate to the paper in front of him. Talent, he said, is something you're born with.

But ink and pulp just don't quite match up like they used to and you know, it probably has something to do with moving from sunlight to fluorescent lighting, but I'll stick with the nature theme and say that she did that too. Just because you're born with it, Jared, doesn't mean you will die with it.

Last lesson: when you least expect it, everything will flood back to you. Like monsoons, rivers, memories.

Maria sits in a hospital room, crying. Can't explain those tears. How does so much pain bring so much joy. So baby girl cries too. That's the connection between mother and daughter.

Nine months of sore feet and midnight ice cream splurges and Mother Nature says, "Here you go, a gift."

Thanks. No really, thanks.

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