Aret

One of the best memories I have of my mom is from just a couple months before my wedding. I was multitasking by chatting with her on the phone and checking my email. As we were discussing some last minute details, an email came in from the hotel i'd booked for the reception saying they were going to tack on another $200 "seating fee" or some such nonsense. I wasn't concerned (I wasn't going to pay it, obviously) but I made some offhand comment about it to mom. "Forward me that email," she said. "I will deal with this." I did, and thought nothing more of it until later that evening. She copied me on an email she sent back to the hotel. Also

Three years went by like a gasp. Did you know that I moved back to the place where we started? Found a good job finally? That I bought a new car? That I bought a house? We’re thinking of starting a family in a year or two. I connected again with an old friend. Dropped some bad habits, picked up some new ones. You would understand. You always knew me better than anyone. Did you know that I still remember? A phone call. A scream. The sour taste of tears and a fierce stabbing pain. Fear. Anger. Guilt. My accomplishments all turn to ashes as I pick up the phone to call you and remember I can’t. Remember why. I don’t even have

In the middle of an enormous forest, there is a clearing that would make even the coldest, most apathetic person gasp in awe, had it ever been seen by human eyes. The grass is a deep, emerald green and as soft as the finest silk. Tiny flowers like gems dot the area and seem to glow and sparkle, even when in shadow. A tiny stream trickles musically through near the edge, and the water is crystal clear, revealing thousands of polished stones. All of this, and yet by far the most astonishing thing is the tree which grows in the center and seems to stretch to the very heavens. Poets might spend years or decades simply composing to the patterns th