Wednesday, June 29, 2016

For the Choir on Stage

As I sit here, writing these fleeting thoughts between these too-tall lines, I remember the little orange book you and I filled with quotes and should be quotes as well. I remember the vibrantly energetic colors dancing across pages in my wobbly infant cursive. In fact, the first time I opened this notebook (the one these words lived in first), I heard your voice asking how I've been and I reached out for your hand holding my favorite pen - knowing full well that you wouldn't be there smiling with your perfectly crooked smile.

This book is an extension of you, and God, I hope Baton Rouge is treating you better than I could. 

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