It seems to me that we are now of the world but not in it.

:: taking you there ::

"If there's anything worse than God saying 'no' to a prayer request, it's God saying, 'yes.'" - Mr. B

Sometimes it feels like the day is a precarious balance of details and deadlines. If one need were to insert itself, or extend itself beyond the bounds I've set, then everything else would cave in.

People call it being "busy" but I don't like that word. I think it's supposed to sound important, like the person talking on their cell phone just after the plane touches down. But I am as vain in my running around as they are in their need for constant contact.

Have we found what we're looking for, or have we just found ourselves? I think I'd like to lose myself.

:: the way we say goodbye ::

We don't; not really. Everyone dances around it, talking about everything but: leaving.

We even let Ellise (she's two) say, "See you tomorrow" when she hugs them goodnight. No one bothers explaining. She won't understand anyway. She'd just cry -- it's past her bedtime.

And me. I sit on the couch and watch CSI. I can't say goodbye till they unwrap this crime. Then I write, first in a letter that I always hide for my parents when they leave, or I leave, or some combination of both. And I write here:

Thank you for letting me get this out. Goodbye, Mom and Dad. See you in a year.