I can`t help but think that my Omi, on returning home, is weeping because Opi is gone. I can`t help but to think that.
&also, how nice it is to not "want" for any thing. If I were to explain it to you, well, for me it is like a good stroke of watercolour on that special paper made just for watercolours, mixed with sea foam green and chamomile tea; sleeping in the same bed with your younger sister; watching good burger for the sixteenth time and having it be just as good as the first; realizing you have enough money to buy the literature necessary for your fourth semester at that silly place called college; knowing that your older brother is in love; being forgiven and making peace with your mom; feeling as though you can run to the aurora borealis and back; and speaking redemption over the man who gave you a name and a home.
It`s kind of like that.
Be alive, brothers and sisters.