a formal feeling comes--
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions--was it He that bore?
And yesterday--or centuries before?

The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.

This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.

Emily Dickinson
Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

2nd Anniversary

I am so sorry I didn't plan on writing more earlier because I am too tired now. Your little brother keeps me on my toes and he made this day much easier on me and your Dad. I love you. I miss you. I am more angry and sad than ever that you are not here with us. Our long awaited family is beautiful but will never be complete with out you.
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