Video of every day - http://vimeo.com/34874881

"Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose."

from The Wonder Years

Sunny days seem to hurt the most
I feel you everywhere I go
I see your smile, I see your face
I hear you laughing in the rain

Still can't believe you're gone

God knows how I miss you
Just knowing no one could take your place
Sometimes I wonder

Who you'd be today

Would you see the world?
Would you chase your dreams?
Settle down with a family?

Some days the sky's so blue
I feel like I can talk to you
And I know it might sound crazy

Kenny Chesney, Who You'd Be Today

anne - snowsuit 1982

The past is beautiful
Like the darkness between the fireflies

Mason Jennings

one perfect morning I was all alone
listening to the blaze of summer
drifting
I was falling
I was floating in a golden haze
breathing in the sky blue sounds
of memories of other days

The Cure - To The Sky

Zen and the Art of Saying Goodbye

I
She was so happy she could have cried,
she said. And he believed her.
He was taken by her honesty.
The room now felt as naked as they were, and new.

The radio alarm clock began its song perfectly.
Sinatra was signing "Fly Me to the Moon,"
And their laughter danced its way to the stars.
This morning the sunlight was not intrusive, but perfect.

II
But just as light breaks night falls,
and just as life wakes death calls.
Everything comes and goes.

There's a transitive nature to all things,
lovers, friends, ends beginnings.
Faith is a dog's nose.

"You fool," he said, but how could he be blamed to trust sincerity.
Words are words. Just words, just words.
They're glass they're masks, they're fire, they're swords

I know no other way to feel.
I tell you because I can.
Yet, I'm afraid to say I miss you.
You may not understand.

III
Still, in the darkest, most hidden corner of my soul
there is a hunger for the shadow that falls
between the soft curve of your back,
for the missing weight of your hand on my chest.

Nick A.

"Where did the year go? We all ask that, eventually. But it's like a rock in the middle of the stream asking where all the water went. There's still water on the way. There's still water all around you now."

James Lileks

“Dear God,” she prayed, “let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry . . . have too much to eat. Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere—let me be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost.”

Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

"In the course of twenty crowded years one parts with many illusions. I did not wish to lose the early ones. Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again."

Willa Cather