Sifting the thoughts, good to bad, memories to aspirations, tired and yearning for that wholesome concept of:

There was that one day so long ago (late night April, I believe) that it began to snow when the day was dark and the hour was late. Soon as the unique whiteness hit the pavement, hit the car, the branches on trees, they were gone, melted into nothing but small puddles. I shed sadness like no other time before, uncontrolled trails of tears that hurt more than a cement brick slamming on the head. And how the boy tried to comfort me in his arms. He never failed, but I shook at the abstract concept of acknowledging that it felt good. As the sun began to show and the hours faded into daybreak, I drove home on the highway, traffic becoming sticky in the time of morning rush hour.

And I look at what I have now, all the love in the world from the exact people I long for. It�s easy, to love, to be loved, to see beauty everywhere my eyes even glance. So I sigh, relieving the tension that once rested so gingerly inside me. Eyes are open now to the big picture.