This city is a map of love
on this street you met me
here snow joined our lips
here we said goodbye
and your eyes followed me for so long
here our paths married
here our hands found home
here I ran to you in illness
here I drove you for the last time
here you hid yourself from me
here I won't stop looking for you
-- anna kamienska
there's not much to say. this weekend I have four days off, because I've been working myself to the bone all week. I have no idea where I'll go; every single place is a memory. not the state fair, not the beach, not the mountains, not camping, not the park. not the open-air concert, because of the fireworks. even at the barn the other night, I burst into tears.
there are tiny things getting me out of bed in the morning. my beautiful sister sent me a present -- some clothes from quiksilver, where she works. a coworker brought me a giant bag of candy (with the admonishment not to eat it all in one go), and took me vintage dress shopping for our upcoming gala. my riding instructor gave me a hug (because I was crying). I'm trying. it's so hard. I can't remember a harder time, period.