To my sweet siblings

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18th of February 2013,

as good a day as any to tell you I love you.

A perfect day to thank you for finding me, sharing your lives with me so naturally, loving me so boundlessly and without question. This love we share is unconditional; love that sprung to life in our souls the moment we met one another. Love that has never left us and never will.

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A tangled mess of arms, legs, dirty little nails, scraped bony elbows. Perfectly tailored to hold on to one another for the rest of our united lives. Where would I be without you? Where would you be without me? Who would understand that smile, who would notice the smallest twinkle in the eyes, who would take that trembling hand and hold it till it trembles no more? You helped me grow and you taught me to be who I wanted to be. You filled and still fill my life with light and laughter and give me reason to sing and dance through all of my days.

We were meant to be, of that I’m sure. Yet still I can’t believe we all met. And for that I’m grateful, I’m delighted and I’m forever thankful.

Love, your sister

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love that does not know

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To love that does not know

I don’t know who you are
where you are
how to recognize you
or when to expect you

But you will be find me
stay
lighten this loneliness

You are
a voice I long to hear
a hand made for mine

You are
the love that does not know

Words

There are words;
in my head,
in my room,
in my dream.

There are words everywhere. Words as I stand in line, count out paper and coins. Words as I cross the road, rush home. Words as I walk the street towards my house. I mumble them under my breath, imprint them on my mind, repeat them over and over and over. I climb the stairs , loyal as a dog the words follow me up all 56 concrete steps. I search for my key, struggle with the lock. Heavy bags of groceries slide from my shoulder, juicy apples roll through the hallway. I kneel down, pick the fruit one by one, while words roll forward in my head, crashing into many more words waiting there.

Words.
Could be the beginning of a story,
the start of something new.
I run to my desk, look for paper, take the pen in my hand.
Words.
There were words once
But then all the words are gone.

The Wrong Direction

As the train sets off in the right direction, I listen to ‘The Wrong Direction’, one of many beautiful songs from ‘Passenger’ aka Mike Rosenberg. I love this song; it’s a refreshing mix between thoughtful, maybe slightly sad lyrics and an upbeat melody that makes me want to get up and dance around the crowded train.

‘There’s fish in the sea for me to make a selection
I’d jump in if it wasn’t for my ear infection
Cause all I want to do is try to make a connection
But it seems I’ve been running in the wrong direction.’
(Mike Rosenberg)