Brace Face! Tin Grin! Metal Mouth! Train Tracks!

Just got back from Dane's consultation -- eeegads...

So I made an appt for the 26th...

and emailed Sunshine about money.

(I proposed that he pay the entire monthly payment and start hacking away at his child support arrears. We'll see how that goes over.)

My baby -- in BRACES?

And worse yet...when I was filling out the health history checklist, Dane was watching over my shoulder... He's a healthy tyke, so I'm on a roll checking "no" "no" "no" and one of the questions was, "Has the patient reached puberty?" I check NO.... and Dane clears his throat and says....

"Uh, Mom?" with this smile like I was clearly missing out on the obvious.

My baby -- in PUBERTY?

OH VEY!

This one is for Cole

I love this kid.

I should have known from the minute I found out I was pregnant with him -- actually, maybe I should have known by how difficult it was to even GET that (+). He was a strong willed sperm amongst a million (not a high number) of other sperm that mostly consisted of slow moving, double-headed invalids. (if you ever went through infertility of any sort, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't well...I'm sorry -- or well, I'm not, well hell...you know what I mean.) He was determined. And then there was a pregnancy wrought with worry and fear. Doctors and specialists fearing one thing after another -- first his heart, then the Downs markers, then the fluid levels. We were tested and monitored til we were blue in the face (and in the spirit.) Yet on 3/10/2003, a most perfect, most beautiful, most blue eyed beauty entered my life and forever changed my world as I knew it. I was madly in love.

I still am.

He was a great baby and made it easy for me to appear like I had it all together in the most wonderful June Cleaver kind of way. He was adaptable and sweet. He was happy being busy -- silent in a crowd -- most peaceful when the music was loud and dogs were barking. He was WIDE AWAKE and angry during the quiet times (no sleeping for him). He was just living the only way that made him comfortable.

And he still does.

Only now? It's not nearly as appealing or cute. In fact, many times it's down right difficult. I like to call him my "spirited one." He is Cole. He is fantastically individual and personable. He has his own attitude and doesn't like to back down. He is stubborn and brilliant (and maddening). He transitions well -- no behavior problems at school (in fact, the opposite) and house hopping (as a glorious divorce will grant your children) seems effortless for him. However, when he comes home to me, he is clingy and adorable. He sits on top of me, kisses me, tells me he loves me a million times -- and gets jealous of anyone in my space. This goes for his brother, my husband, our dogs, you name it.

The last year has been increasingly "spirited" on the home front -- especially, at Sunshine's, apparently. From the stories I hear, to the excuses his Dad makes - it's safe to say that he is grossly misunderstood and treated to feel like his "spirit" should be dulled. It saddens me and hurts my heart. See, Cole is a lot like I was as a child. I never sat still. I was all over the place with this energy in my body that soared through my veins. It got me in trouble too. So I'm a bit softer on him than I really should probably be. I understand that corporal punishment is not the way to treat this "spirit" in fact it makes the "spirit" fight back. Cole is NOT like his brother -- who a stern voice and "mom" look makes him cry and retreat. Cole attacks the attacker. Without getting into psycho-analytic babble, Cole needs positive reinforcement. In two households that were raised on "spare the rod, spoil the child" mentality, he's basically screwed.

That said -- I am working with him. I am getting him to understand the benefits of good behavior. We talk a lot -- just me and him. I would like to believe that he feels safe with me. I'm a balance I believe he desperately needs and an understanding ear. I tell him that I was JUST LIKE HIM and try to make him see NOW how much easier life could be if he could channel his energy into something positive. I tell him repeatedly how beautiful his spirit is and how lucky we are to have him. I try to build him up.

Yesterday, I was at work. Cole was "spirited" as all get out, from what Justin and Dane told me. When he was asked to go pick up dog poop, Cole revolted in some crazy anarchy 9 year old way. Justin sent him to his room....and he stayed in there for a couple hours (on his own really, but still). When he asked to come out, Justin took away video games for the day. All of them. Computer. Wii. DS. Apparently, the "spirit" came out again....which wound up in total TWO WEEKS of no video games. I was 30 miles away and I could almost hear his "spirit." (And, let's face it... TWO WEEKS punishes ME too....) I was a bit afraid of what I was facing when I was going to get home.

That said....I called to check in a little while later. My husband was mopping the floor (more on that later *grin*). My eldest was playing on the computer. My baby?...Quietly writing a story.

!!!?????

When I got home, Cole was SO EXCITED to show me his story. Sure, he only wrote one chapter (a page and a half)...but it was ANIMATED and BEAUTIFUL. He has props and acted it out as he read. He was PROUD and HAPPY. And, literally folks, I cried. I had the greatest happiest tears in my eyes...that my husband is strong enough to challenge his spirit without breaking him (or backing down)....that his SPIRIT was DANCING. You could see the wheels turning as he told me about ideas for the next chapter. He was WRITING! He was creating a story and expressing himself in his beautiful words.

He is JUST like his Mom.

And my spirit is PROUD!

"Keep 'em coming"....

That's what Justin's sister says when it comes to her children. She is SO amazing....Here she is...with her husband...and 10 kids...3 biologically her own -- and 7 others -- all fostered and then adopted... 2 sibling groups included....age doesn't matter....race doesn't matter...money doesn't matter... what matters first and utmost? GOD'S VOICE. What matters second? LOVE.

I'm HONORED to be part of such an amazing family.

VERY emotional today

....almost feels like I'm a girl.

:)

So, it was my birthday yesterday...facebook is good like that...reminds every random person to tell you "happy birthday." It was awesome. People OUT of the woodwork!

and somehow I focus on those I didn't hear from....not in some ridiculous way...just missed....

like my dad. Not that I expected a call from the beyond...but I crave a kiss on the forehead....and just always think of my parents...and "what they were doing..."

CRAZY....

my mom...."facebooked" me.... another "welcome to my world" does that count? It should...because that woman loves me...I mean REALLY LOVES ME...faults and all...and her "welcome to my world" comment was the very first words I spoke to my own children.... I wonder if she knows that?

like my brothers and sister....I got a "happy birthday" email from Rick...but NOTHING from Kelly or Johnny....leaves me wondering if I am too old for that? Kerry emailed, texted AND came out with me after work. :)

I worked yesterday -- and they knew that....and Justin sent me a wonderful fruit bouquet.... we all devoured. We went out last night....and drank like I was 21. OUCH

I love my friends and family -- and feel a little fragile today.

I sent a another patient to hospice yesterday. His family was just like mine. Large.,...annoying...demanding.....lost. :) I looked in his eyes and LOVED THIS MAN.....(I've only been his nurse for two days!) He had a major stroke which left him completely aphasic (he couldn't talk) and right side deficit....but don't FOR ONE SECOND think that man didn't know what was going on OR that his LEFT hand wouldn't tell you! He was a truck driver by trade, I came to find out. A father of 5 (and maybe 2 others, LOL, his son told me).... A brutal, hard, difficult man (I was told).... Just recently with a major bipass and endarectomy...and threw a fucking clot and was found unresponsive at the rehab unit....yet when the family left the room to arrange hospice details, he tried to haul his body OUT of the bed after them...and I held his strong hand....telling him everything that was happening...

"I know you are frustrated....probably scared."
"you are in the hospital...you had a major stroke."
"Your family is amazing...a true testament to you as a man."
"Be proud of them. Be okay that your wife is OK..you made it be so..."
"I know you understand me, I know you hate this. I know."

....and he cried.

....and I cried.

And, I cry yet today....right now....thinking of this beautiful family struggling right NOW. Watching the man that led thefamily (at least financially..come on...we all know the woman does everything...LOL)...die. Watching the man that loved their Mom...and made it be that HE DID EVERYTHING FOR HER.... die. Watching them be scared....all of them in different stages...some of them wanting more, some of them wanting it over.....And I think of my own dad's death....and my insignificant wondering if anyone cared... PLEASE don't hate them for wanting "it over".....it....is...the MOST difficult thing....EVER....being honored enough to watch them die...

I hugged each of them...and felt the weight of their saddess with every fiber in my body...each....one....

truth is....

...life goes on....

and I remember vividly walking into the elevator after my dad died....a little relieved and guilty to be so...."and now there were 6" from my mom...and every single sound as I got into my car....next to the throw up from mere hours previous... I actually got LOST driving back to my parents house...in a town I've lived in ALL MY LIFE. (side note....I feel sick to my stomach remembering.)

Oh Dad....please welcome him....Russ....I called him "Russ"

and please bless his family....

...and somehow let people know...like you just did....that is DOES matter....to even the insignificant.....

...as I sit here...his nurse...that sealed his fate, made him DNR...and sent him to hospice....

I did celebrate my birthday last night -- 37 years old. He smiled when I told him it was my birthday (half a smile...got a point on the NIH scale for that)....he squeezed my hand tight...I know he wished me a "happy birthday"...I know.

I sit here in tears....

...wondering if this is the right profession for me...

....I sit here in tears....

...thinking of Russ.

Sick obsession or something....

I have a slight fascination with death -- I can't lie. My family and good friends all just know that it's part of me. I don't really know when it started...or, for that matter, why. I think it probably jumped a few notches when my friend, Aaron died when we were in high school. Simply knowing that I was suppose to be there with him and that I was one of the last people to talk to him has forever changed my thinking of "coincidence" and "timing." His death absolutely changed me.

When myspace was the rage, I found mydeathspace.com -- which was a running total of dead myspacers -- then they added myspacers that murdered on this uber cool map of the world. Black means dead myspacer (it links you to their page) and red meant murderer myspacer (also a link.) I was beside myself....and spent hours on that damn site. Intrigued. My friend, Angela, and I made a pact that if we died we would submit each other (sealed with a kiss of account login and password details.) Now facebook has taken over -- but no one has created a death face book... perhaps that will be my ticket to the money tree. facesofdeathbook.com (I gotta search if that domain is available.)

I read the obituaries every day, too...not for any particular reason...just cause I'm alive to read them, I suppose. It use to be that I looked for people I knew (or grandparents of those people)...or for those close to my age. I even came up with a game in which I would get an extra point for an article in the newspaper regarding a death -- and an obit on that person -- in the same paper, same day. That would get me 2 points. 2 points to what? no clue! But it was a bonus point, never the less. Since I've become a nurse, and my population has a higher likelihood of dying, I look for names I know. And, it happens. (and I get an extra point.) I had a journal entry somewhere years ago where I wrote my obituary and it was amazingly crazy. It prioritizes your life. If I die today, I hope it will say: (off the cuff...)

Kristen's life and love revolved around her children, Dane and Cole. They are
her dream come true and the song in her heart. Every day she loved them and told
them....everyday...over and over and over again. There is NOTHING these boys
can't do -- and she told them that, everyday.
Kristen's life was blessed with the love of two men: The father of her children (Joel Nusbaum) and the owner of her heart, her husband, her best friend, her partner in crime, the person that made her laugh and loved her the most, Justin Essary.
Kristen loved her family incredibly and was proud of the Beiriger and Kealy blood that pumped through her body (She was a stubborn German with blubbering Irish eyes, crying mostly during the great times.)
Kristen 's loyalty and pride lied with her family (Dad, Mom, Johnny, Erin,
Rick, Cliff, Kelly, Thomas, Kerry, Travis, Keegan, and Connor) and she embraced
her "other family" which included in-laws, old and new friends and coworkers.
Kristen loved hard and fast, was fun and forgiving, silly and sarcastic
(perhaps sadistic - ha!), passionate and public, honest and ornery, but most of
all...she knew who she was.
A wife. A mother. A daughter. A sister. An Aunt.
A godmother. A cousin. A friend. A nurse. A survivor. A compassionate soul.
She hopes that she is kicking back with her dad, aunt, uncle, Aaron, and the
other's that have passed (and maybe conceding to her dad and having a Schlitz)
and watching the movies of YOUR life unfold...
Until you meet her again...
Be kind to each other.
We all just want to be happy.

"Some of it's magic

and some of it's tragic,

but I had a good life

all the way." (Kristen Kealy, via Jimmy Buffett)

(something like that...)

I was honored to write my father's obit...I was proud of it -- but made a cardinal obit. sin of omitting how he died...I guess I was wrapped up in my dad...I figured EVERYONE KNEW he died of cancer. (you might want to add that I'm conceded and egotistical in my obit...when I die. Seriously. LOL) But be sure you add how I did in there somewhere.

Anyway -- I just spent the last few hours reading about those on death row in Arizona. There is an execution set to take place on 2.29.2012. I will be a year older and this man will die. Irony. But on this site...it tells you what they did...what their court history was...mitigating circumstances...and death date. If you search farther...you can find those that have died...and for some reason and big part of all the documentation is what their last meal was...

Why these brutal murderers care about food is beyond me -- or why we give them it, baffles me too... (I'm guessing it's some sort of governmental scam to try to act like we care...but never the less...) Seriously caught myself LAUGHING at last meal requests....

here is what I would request:
medium rare fillet
baked potato -- sour cream and chives
crab legs with a lot of butter and lemon juice...
cheese and crackers
jar of pickles
sauerkraut
cheese pizza (yes I'm serious, you can ask for all this)
cheesecake
apple pie with vanilla ice cream
and a keg of Coors Light...(OK, I'm guessing you can't get alcohol...right?) but if that's the case... a gallon of milk (slightly frozen) and a case of Coke.

Some jackoff murderer asked for Diet Pepsi -- what?!

You don't believe me do you....check it out for yourself: http://www.azcorrections.gov/inmate_datasearch/Minh_NewDeathRow.aspx

If I'm ever on death row (I won't be, relax...) It won't be "dead man walking..." It will be like,

"DEAD BITCH ROLLING!"

I have been so busy....I hate busy.

...yet I live it -- day in and day out.

Work, school, papers, deadlines, a wife, a mom, 2 busy kids, soccer x2, honor band, running club, Sister Moses play, fieldtrips, homework, playdates, heartbreaks, homework, friendships, drama, disappointment, thrills, laughter, concerts, dates, golf tournaments, jacuzzis, schenanigans, bikerides, weeds, poop patrol, dinner, dishes, laundry, taxi driver, maid, monster, reader, writer, singer, biter (lol)

...and it goes on.

I like to live a full life, but I want stillness too.

This morning I was talking on the phone to my sister, making breakfast for the chitlins and trying to figure out the day. School and a trip to Walmart to get Cole's sport goggles. I'll get Dane from parent pickup and take him to honor band practice. My sister will get Cole and take him to the running club race (remember to pack shorts and energy bar). I will meet them at the park. Then I will take Cole and my nephews, pick up Dane. We will rush home and get Cole ready for soccer, to which we will then go to. Nephews will get picked up from there. Rush home. Dinner. Bedtime. Cole will just have to miss an "eye patch day" we simply are running out of time. Then I realize we must HURRY because the bus leaves to take Cole to his two daytime showtimes of Sister Moses. I yell to Dane...and we all hustle and bustle, leaving the house...late.

I'm a block from school -- and we're running over the schedule. And, I see a woman -- I'd say 70s -- in a bathrobe...laying on her driveway.

And we stop.

Turns out she fell trying to get the paper.

Cars, buses, vans passing her by -- kids and their parents walking, biking and cruising by.

And we stop.

She tells me her right knee is a replaced and "the damn left one just went out." I offer to call the ambulance - she refuses. I look her over and ask her if she has a walker, a chair, or anything to help get her up. She tells me to open the door and scream for her hard of hearing husband.

"AL!!!! AL!!!!" a few minutes goes by and he stumbles out of his room, terrified to find a disheveled and pajama clad women screaming his name (might be someone's fantasy, but not Al's.) He scurries to dress and hustles outside.

In a hurry.

I've gotten the woman a blanket (she's cold, on the driveway -- she told me for at least 15 minutes). I've assessed her and she is fine, just embarrassed.

Al and I get her up slowly and walk her inside to sit down. I look her over again...She's okay. She promises she will use her walker.

With tears in his eyes he blesses me and calls me their angel.

With tears in her eyes she tells me, "I'm grateful the Lord made you stop. And that you listened."

After we're in the car and on our way.

Cole is inquisitively looking outside the window with his mouth wide open and says, "It's okay if I'm late and miss the bus, I'm glad we stopped."

Dane has a sweet and proud smile and says, "Mom, thank you for stopping."

Moral of the story:
S T O P.

(edited to add: he made the bus)

Wait!? I can pick my own topic!? NICE....

Two things are weighing on my mind a lot lately....divorce and Vietnam. Odd? Ya, I know. The divorce thoughts are not even directly because of the one I was so blessed to be a part of (snicker snicker) but moreso that of a few of my friends. I hear stories and my mind wonders back to a time when x, y, or z happened to me too. I am so disappointed in the husbands of these relationships and yes, I realize I am only getting one side of the story. I've also realized that the reason I am only getting one side is because only one person is telling me. LIGHTBULB MOMENT: My friends didn't necessarily pick a side in my divorce...perhaps, we picked it for them.

Anyway, that's entirely drab, so I will go on to my next topic. Vietnam -- further...what led up to the conflict, why the United States got involved and what the American people were told. I've always been very interested in the Vietnam war. Partly because it wasn't so long ago and the media has trash-hounded it like mad with movies, books, plays, songs (you get the picture) and partly because there were so many social implications that followed our involvement (and I'm a bleeding liberal heart). I felt I had a decent grasp on what went on over there but craved an unending desire to learn more.

uh, scratch that last part....

I have to take a history class for ASU -- the only general education requirement different than U of A's apparently -- and i figured "there's no better time than now to learn about something I'm actually interested in." (Take that as you will considering I'm enrolled in classes to get my BSN in Nursing...) So, I enrolled in HIS 456: The Viet Nam War.

This class is INTENSE. It's a 7 1/2 week course which spans from the 1945-1975. I know many of you don't realize what that means. It means in 54 days we will have to grasp what happened in 10.950 days (feel sorry for me yet?) It means we are studying the era from post WWII (the French involvement with Vietnam...Communism vs Nationalism) all the way through the increased involvment of the U.S from 1954-1964) to DIRECT US involvement in 1965 through the blood bath and political rhetoric from 1968 - 1973) and then post war ramifications from 1973 - 1975. (side note: it leads up promptly to my birthday....hehehe a good time to end the class...in 1975).

^I just learned that...not copied from my syllabus....really.^ Kinda impressed with myself.

Anyway, we are studying the time when Johnson and his government decided to quietly lie to the American people about why we were getting involved the way that we were --more than just financially, but by actually putting B52s up in the sky and our soilders on the ground. (I find it VERY interesting that this lying and manipulating led him to win another term of Presidency against Goldwater -- a staggering win of 62% or something -- when Johnson was taking all the steps to do JUST what GOLDWATER was saying needed to be done -- to ESCALATE war tactics...ugh, frustrating)

You guys, this was WAS SO CORRUPT from the get-go. At every turn there is misinformation and false promises. It is disgusting.

No, I won't bore you with politics or waritics (i like that term...just made it up) but I will say studying this class has hurt my brain -- and my heart. It has made me really THINK about the wars our country has been involved in, especially this Iraqi War of late. We are all fucking sheep. Sorry for the F bomb mama...it's true. We listen to the presidential speeches and read the scholarly articles in newspapers and magazines around the world -- what it comes down to -- we are not PRIVY to shit as far as information. If anyone truly believes that "their candidate" will follow through on the promises he/she makes on television (while wearing the perfect suit, perfect smile, having the perfect speech and perfect cookie cut hand wave)...you are delusional. WHO CARES WHAT THEY SAY! We will never know the chess moves they are playing. We will never truly understand the motives -- for each person carries different ones. We will never understand the true implications and cost -- because there is an argument everywhere you look "based on facts." We will NEVER know the lives that have been lost, the mismanagement of funds, warfare and power. We will never know about the laws broken, the treaties untrought (not a word but I'm rolling....) It's TERRIFYING! The best we can hope for is some teeensy bit of truth and some person at the helm believing we can be a better country because of x, y, and z.

It scares the shit out me. A lot of my disdain is because my husband is a US Army Veteran and very proud of his time overseas and I get paralyzed with fear thinking about it. I always assumed to be in the military you have to be a bit of a sheep....but I think THOSE men and women know more then we do -- then our neighbor does, than our damn President and Congress knows. WHO VOTES FOR THESE PEOPLE!! I'm just scared to death...

I have so much more to share....but I need to enjoy the 73 degree, beautiful Arizona Spring day....

...more to be continued...I assure you.

Day 30!!!!! A picture of someone you miss

MY DAD

John Francis Kealy 6/20/1944 - 8/16/2007

Day 29 - A picture that can always make you smile

This is my baby...in all his magnificent, cocky, happy, modeling, slightly annoying, tad bit obnoxious, beautiful, loving, independent, bratty, sassy, funny, silly, full-of-attitude, Cole.

Everything about him makes me smile and this priceless shot shows how very spunky he is and how truly happy he feels inside.

My son. My love. My smiles.

Day 29 - A picture of something you're afraid of

This was the easiest to pick....then the most difficult to get a picture of....I swear I have the creeps! I hate these things.....how in the WORLD do people live where there are alligators??? I'm sorry Crocodile Hunter....you were a fool....may you rest in peace in some swampy marsh somewhere wrestling these giant beasts....please take them all, fulfill your afterlife.... YUCK!

Day 27 - A picture of you and a family member

This is my oldest brother, Johnny. (I say "oldest" with a smile -- he is a twin -- but alas, he was born first.) My brothers mean the world to me and they always have. They are 8 years older than I am but we have always been really close. I suppose maybe the age difference helped that be possible. When they were around, I felt like they were the coolest. Their friends wrestled with me and their girlfriends took my friends and me to 7-11 for Slurpee's and nerds. As we've grown up, I've counted on my brothers - for advice, for money, for help moving (LOL), for friendship or just for a beer.

I worry about Johnny. He is such a beautiful person -- I just wish he would take better care of himself. After my Dad died, JJ began putting way too much pressure on himself. Sure, he is a father-figure of sorts, but he is NOT responsible for any of us. His blood pressure is too high and he drinks too much. He lives a hard life. He works hard and plays harder. People LOVE to be around him. His personality is infectious. He has a way of making you feel like you are invincible. "We are the best of the best, Stone." He's known for repeating to me (Stone is my nickname) and he truly does believe we are meant for greatness simply by having the Kealy blood in our veins. My wish for him is that he will find a very special someone and settle down a bit. I would love to see him be a father (even in a step father role) and I wish he would take a more active role in his nephews lives. My kids think the world of him. Perhaps 2012 will bring JJ some peace and a solid base to stand on....

...and hopefully he will be around us all more.

Day 26 - A person of someone who means a lot to you

This one is really hard for me. I understand that is pretty strange. Of course there are the obvious answers -- my husband, my children, my mom, sisters, brothers...but those have all already been answered and blogged about. Maybe I'm getting tired of this little "day picture challenge" (there are 30 days in total, so I'm on the final stretch)...or maybe it's because so many people mean so much. I'm going to roll with this one:

Yup, that's me.

Now before you go and think I'm all self-absorbed, let me explain. This picture means the world to me. I remember EXACTLY what I was thinking at the time. Justin and I were forging a relationship when the world was against it. We went up north, just us two, to a place where my family always felt the closest. Our cabin. While we were there, amongst the laughter and love, we had the greatest long and serious talks. I remember bawling and telling him of things in my past that I wish I could forget and begging him to not let it change his vision of me. I remember him breaking down telling me of the visions in his head of the war he has fought and the lives he has seen leave this world. I remember us both sharing our dreams about the future, where we wanted our relationship to go, who we wanted to be (together and separately.) I remember feeling incredibly real and tortuously vulnerable, but feeling like we were in a bubble and that he made me feel safe. I wanted him to know everything about me and I wanted to know everything about him. More than that, I wanted us to be our truest, most authentic selves, and I really wished that we could figure out how to do that -- together. I think that was when I really fell in love with Justin. We went on a quad ride later that day, and stopped at this wishing fountain. I can promise you, my wish is continuously coming true.

This picture reminds me of how far I've come.

I do love my life. I love that I love hard and fall fast. It makes for a lot of pain in my world, however. Once you have made it into my heart (not always the easiest,) I don't forget you. It's happened to me time and time again...paths separate and lives lead totally different directions...but, I don't wanna let you go. And, I usually don't. It makes sense to me that I am still friends with all of my ex's...and am always the friend to remember birthdays and such...because they every person, every event...is etched in my heart, to stay. What therapy has taught me is that it is okay to love like I love as long as I am willing to long like I long and sometimes feel betrayed or hurt by people who don't do things like I do. What time has taught me is that there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. I am me. It's in the air I breath and the blood that pumps in my veins.

I've always been a confident person. I know that I am not the prettiest, smartest, skinniest, bravest, truest, funniest, etc. person but I rank pretty high in all categories. :) What's important for the adult me to remember is that I have to face the "man in the mirror" and the God I believe will welcome my spirit one day and they deserve to be respected and honored. The people who I choose to surround me better lift me up and hope for the same in return. The people around me better guide me and nurture me without condemnation or duty because I want to do that for them. The people around me better love me and like me for they have already busted the walls down and are in my heart forever. The people around me better love themselves and be confident in who they are and when they are down, they better trust me when I say how beautiful they are. WE are worth it.

The people that I chose to be in my life....are my life. So when I see that person in the picture above, I know I was wishing that I'd find a life a worth. People of substance. Love to sustain. And, I prayed that I would be the woman that I am today...

So yes....that person is me. And *I* mean a lot to me.

My brother always tells me that "we are the best of the best." And, by damn, who am I to disagree?