I live in a homey house and I like the nice floors. The landlord is supposed to paint it and put on a new roof, but he is as much a flake as we are sometimes. I know I will live here for a while longer.

My insides also know that I will move, and I will live in different cities and in different houses. I don't know when to do it. When will I know and when will they tell me?

I want to grow young and soft. I want to grow grizzled and wise.

There was that one weekend in 1997 when everyone else left, and you and I spent 4 days straight together. We went out a couple times, but we didn't see anyone we knew. We laid in your bed, and cut our nails and turned the heat on, and the brick walls were dark and the rain came down. We walked around the big house neighborhood, and discussed how we view the world differently. we got naughty and silly and made each other food, and watched good movies and watched bad movies. we generally liked each other. after those four days everyone came back to the school, and our lives changed. you taught me so much about strength and knowledge and love and you may be the smartest person i have ever known. you are so kind. you are understanding and forgiving and full of truths.

thank you for calling me on my shit, and thank you for changing me for the better.