At play in the fields of the lord.

Sorted through some photographs prior to laying down yesterday morning. They were from a differnt place and a differnt time. Placed a few in an album, the rest I tossed out with the trash. The kids over on foundphotos would have a field day.

What are they anyway? Chemical reaction printed pixils cemented on paper. Triggers of memory cells laid dorment in the brain. To resurface again.

During therapy, a common theme that resurfaced was this notion of being the catcher in the rye- not letting go. Holding on to the threads of the rope, way after the climber I was trying to save, fell to the surface below-or something to that extent.

Received 2 e-mails today: One from the bartender of a bar I used to frequent, that she finally is leaving, and the other from a high school friend who I havn't heard from in awhile. High school friend aside, I probably won't email the bartender back.

The trick is deciding when to hang on, and when not to. And in some regards, I've made peace with the wild things.

Quinlan Road

While at the concert, Lorenna Mckennitt sang a song, I was unfamiliar with, but quite enjoyed. Although I tried to remember any part of it, with the passing morning, it was gone. Lost.

This isn't the first time, nor the last. People, places, and things come into your life for a reason. People, places, and things come into your life for a season. People, places, and things come into your life for a lifetime.

Usually when they return, its by some odd sort of coincidence.

While surfing on you-tube, I found it. "Never ending Road"."

"The road now leads onward
And I know not where
I feel in my heart
That you will be there
Whenever a storm comes
Whatever our fears
The journey goes on
As your love ever nears

Here is my heart and I give it to you
Take me with you across this land
These are my dreams, so simple and few
Dreams we hold in the palm of our hands"

The End of the Road

Today is Allan's last day in Europe. Sunday he'll board a plane, and return to "reality".

I've been there.

The last day of any European Trip has been spent with reflection, thought, and celebration. The first was in a cafe in Madrid, the second-in the Roman Forum, Rome, Italy, and the final-in a hotel room, unable to sleep with Insomnia......

Anxiously awaiting his return, but hoping he spends some time in reflection, of what he has learned, what he has lived for, and the experience of the last month.

He wrote about me on the train today. I wonder what he wrote, was it pages, or was it a few choice words, that represented much more than that?

The plane landed. I stretched my legs, and waited in Que for the deboarding. Turned on my cell phone-it wasn't long before it rang. He said, he would be looking for me, and was at the airport. Grabed my bag, and followed the signs to the luggage claim-looking at people. There on the left side of my vision, near the security gate, was him. He was wearing the light blue shirt, he wore on St. Thomas. His eyes looked water over, and my feet started to walk quicker. If words were spoken, they were of encouragement, "Come-on-Baby", there may not have been, his sunshine smile spoke volumes. My bag droped, as there was an embrace. No cares what people ment. FOr in an aiport of 100's of passerby's, he and I were the only ones "There".