She was the kind of girl who could move me, not because she knew how, or even was aware, but because, despite the fights, the good days and bad, she always made me feel as though I had worth. In such an unknown world, in these uncertain times, those moments of reassured worth, they count. A lot. Nothing individually about her was striking, with her judging brown eyes, curly blond hair. Instead her beauty came from within, and shone so brightly that it manifested itself externally. She was beautiful, soaked all the way through, and despite those perpetually cool hands, she had a knack for warming up a room. And as those memories go back under lock & key, the warmth fades and the worth diminishes. Nobody yet has compared in those feelings, though perhaps I'm not seeking a replacement. For the one I let slip through the cracks, my errors banishing me to a crock-pot hell. Is the story over? Hardly.
-TC
Oct. 7, 2010
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