as you go on and on

what i really love about john's house, out in the country, is that sometimes when you're driving out there you see shooting stars. a glimpse of silver magic across the darkness of a midnight sky. you never see those in the city. shooting stars, or are they falling? ("burning bright then burning out disappear and then fall down are they special or just broken dying or moving on...")i wonder about that but it's beautiful all the same.

once in myrtle beach we stood inside the church building and talked; it was late at night and everyone was clearing out. the doors on either side of the church were open, it was hot but there was just enough of a breeze and we stood there together, looking at pictures of his puppies back home. i hadn't seen him in a year. i wanted to hug him tight and not let go -- that's how much i had missed him.

"how are you doing?" he asked me that, just like he always did, because that's how he was. more than anyone else like a brother to me, always making sure i was ok.

and we talked, and i told him how things were going, and then he smiled and said, "you know i have this feeling that someday you'll be my sister-in-law. won't that be awesome? thanksgiving dinner or whatever, and i'll have my lovely wife there, and you and ----- will be there, all of us together." we laughed about that, because it was what we were looking forward to, and that was the future standing out in front of us.

that seems so long ago now. i think he's the only thing i miss about it.

ahh, i'm finished being a star (if indeed i ever was one).

i've got things so much better now.

xoxo

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