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I'm going to tell you a story, and it does not start with "Once upon a time...", but she might wish it did. For then, she too would be blissfully fictional and not painfully human. It is about the girl like any other. She liked the smell ground after the rain and hated the ultimate heat of the summer. Loved to get lost in the known parts of the woods and enjoyed how a creek can wash off all kinds of emotions. She loved dogs. Had two. She often admired her yellow cat for the simplicity of the days... Candles were for tough days and something sweet for every. Wind could make her feel alive and soothe the anger of raw emotion and strange people. She adored smelling that celestial aroma on her wrists, but often forget to put the perfume on. Loved ladybugs and nightingales, but never actually heard the exact lullaby. Fireflies were the magic and leaves could tell a story, though often a gloomy one. Spring could make her feel the pain of melancholy and autumn would make her feel alive again. Blood would make her wonder and people made her sick. Some days all the bottles of laughter she cherished so fondly were cracked and leaked in places, in time, melted with pain and grief. And when all that heroic pain became a burden, she'd start to grieve for the person she was before... the softness of a pillow, hot showers, and chocolate... the best thing for the worn-out soul. so that's when she'd realize that grief was just wild and forgotten love. Eyes are the mirrors and grin is a battle scar. Nothing can turn back time. Except for memories. And sometimes she hated that wretched window she could easily open. But through the image, the glass was already gone. So she would think of salt as an ocean and not a drop. Wild, ultimate, and free. The smell of the ocean always brought smiles and with the scent of pines, the moment of freedom. Cold is clarity for her and heat is too much. She likes the color blue and the sky with puffy clouds. In fields of green, she's frequently looking for clover with three petals, because that brings peace to the storms in the force of life around her. December sun can make her soul warm and she would smile like a new miracle was found. Every night they met, she often asked the Moon if she can make her full too because she was torn between the wonder of thoughts and wounds of reality; that didn't make her bitter, just more human than she knew. So, you see, all people enjoy Earth and what they think magic is in their different, but just another way of understanding the real world around them. Romanticized by the poets and worshipped by the nature. And sometimes air around you shifts and the path for the day goes well off the tracks... and the whole world is against you. Those days you frequently ask yourself about the mere purpose, but there's no known response that can bring you enough wisdom or happiness. It all belongs to you. All that pain and joy. Mind is a strange struggle itself, and I believe completely in that quote I bear in my mind; it sometimes creeps in, like a phantom and I find it sipping herbal tea, oblivious to my fear... "Not all those who wander are lost." So when our girl, that this story is about, goes looking for that particular wardrobe, blue box or huge hole near the tree... or even second star in the night sky... don't you dare to stop her! You can join her of course, and bring a book! She might not be fond of people in general, but I can tell that she likes humans with a rainbow in their eyes.
I've always attached part of my existence to the capacity of writing. Even before I understood that putting different letters together would create words, I would already express myself with colored pencils and white paper. Apart from my sisters, I was not drawing, I was scrapping letters that I saw in my mother's big teacher's books. Growing up, I took a long time to master the spoken language, but I learned how to read and write precociously: at 4 years old. Before I completed my first decade of life, the habit of writing was so mine that the warmth of the words written with my tilted calligraphy on straight lines was strong enough to warm me. And this feeling was so strong and reciprocal that I would write every night before sleeping and consistently, with no exception, I would let a notebook under my pillow. On the attendance list of my bed, there were only three students: me, the notebook, and the pencil. In the future, I am no longer writing my last words before I sleep. At this moment, I'm waiting for the words of a doctor, who reviews, for the last time, what he is going to tell me: the lump in my dominant forearm is a tumor. The words are not necessarily awkward, the doctor probably had told them about a thousand times; they are, however, different for my ears. I start to laugh because I don't know how to react when he tells me that it is rare. Well, winning the lottery is also rare, but that is not the rarity I got. When I leave the clinic, everything in my life goes so fast that it felt like every day was a movie, but I would only watch the trailers, numbed enough not to live any experience. So many things went through my mind non-stop. Sometimes, when I get bad news, everything stops for a second until it gets back to normal speed. I always wish that this moment would last longer, not seconds, but days; which is impossible. Life goes on. Some yet-to-be-introduced character in your life is working at the moment. Some left-too-early character in your life is taking a pet for a walk. Some never-will-be-known character is also receiving bad news and is also wishing time would stop. For this character, time also did not stop. I was not wronged for cutting my frustration short - if anything, this was the reinforcement of my humanity. One day before my surgery, I write my last words in the notebook. It is a farewell letter. I don't know if I am coming back. I don't know if I am coming back horribly limited. I also write my last letter addressed to my grandmother. She died from cancer before I was born, so I never got to meet her. She could not read or write. I always believed I was writing for both me and her. I apologize. I probably am going to lose the last link I have between us. And I am sorry for my father, that will lose in me the last living thing that could remind her mother. Every word she could pronounce I wrote in notebooks spread by the house. At least, that's what he told me. I get into surgery. I thought - and this is something that did not quite change from the past to the present - so ironic that the hand that allowed me to write all my dreams in the format of a poem and all my fears like long proses was, also, the hand that could lose its movements due to a cluster of inconvenient cells that were pressing my tendon. After arriving home, the post-operation pain already was making me feel like the surgery was being performed with me wide awake. I was advised to take sleeping pills. But I did not sleep as fast as it was promised. On the attendance list, the notebook and the pencil did not confirm their presence on my bed. The impossibility of writing about the storm of feelings, fears, and insecurities made me feel everything even more intensely. The lack of the noise of the pencil touching the paper was as if every television, every radio, and every sound machine in the world was turned off at the same time. And I think about Paulo Freire, patron of Brazilian education, and I know his work on “Pedagogy of the Oppressed” does not refer exactly to it, but I feel in a pedagogical oppression scenario. The problem is that the oppressor is my body, and so is the oppressed. No one from my family walks into my room, they don't knock and don't even make any noise. Nobody including a part of mine, who is watchful on the other side of the door, waiting to get in when everything is alright. Which takes some time. Between frustrated attempts of writing with my left hand and tears over the fear of never writing again, this is the very first night I sleep without the notebook under my pillow.
There are a lot of contests for youths that are constituted by our President.Among them,the competition called "Young Reader" has become a sample of my vibrant memories.In fact,in 2022 for the first time I got to participate in the republican stage of this contest. I was left in 4th in the regional stage because of the lack of my experience.After this catastrophic lose of hope for winning,my craving for the reward has died.You may ask,who was the impetus for my constancy of attempts,then I would answer "that's my mom and my dad,they were the motivation themselves" I used to be just televiewer of this contest only, while the winners were gathered in front of the main stage I used to hear my mums words "when I will be able to see my daughter in the group of these intelligent young people?Will I see my daughter holding the main reward,waving the key of an automobile?"As I am a pupil of the russian school,where all the subjects are taught in Russian,I was strictly against to my participation in this contest as if the sky was going to fall down to the ground. But my mother's request taught me not to lose myself, our national values, literature,not to forget my mother tongue. The terms of the competition were much more difficult, I hesitated too much when i was speaking in public for preparation of the contest. It was too challenging me. How many sleepless nights,cartoonless and phoneless days have I experienced...When I prioritized my perfect participation I dreamed a lot about: discussing difficult topics with the most quick-witted readers from the different parts of my country, creating a group on a Telegram Messenger, and building a brief conversation with them.The most interesting part was the poetry challenge. I was in 4th in terms of the participants. Until this round I skimmed the whole book that was being presented to first participants.I felt that I should read this book as much as I can in order to answer to the questions of judges,but anyway the feeling of low memory-esteem left no way for me.I clearly remember that the participant called Shahriyor asked me to lend the book. I felt the powerful fire inside. Soon realized that that's called jealousy.Somehow more powerful river ran and engulfed the flame, and gave back my sense of humanity to myself. Then I gave the book to Shahriyor. I began to turn the book "Little star" of Abdulla Oripov over and over until i was called to the main stage ...Just a minute before leaving the waiting room suddenly I came across the short poem.It was about a pen. I read it just once. On the stage I was required to choose any random number on the screen with random poems behind. This is unbelievable but... overriskingly,I chose the number 13 against the beliefs that it's an unlucky number.The 4 lines of the poem behind the number were the ones that I read 5 minutes ago!!!I was amazed!!!For the whole preparation year for this contest I read this poem only once,and plus once,there,in waiting room.I was confident in describing this poem to judges,as ideas were fresh in my mind.Fortunately,I got the highest score in this part of the challenges.While leaving the stage I was completely convinced that Allah is seeing all my efforts and will not leave them without reward.But at first,I speculate,I was examined in terms of humanity.When I agreed to lend that book,i passed the exam. I could control my jealousy and put the tolerance and humanity as my priorities.From that moment,I started to take actions accepting them as if they are exams that Allah is giving.What if I had not lent the book?!I would not achieve the highest score and stage overall.Thank God,I am receiving the fruits of my hard efforts.Shortly,that competition taught me a life lesson.
Hi everyone, I'm Sraavani! I'm a highschool attending, academically overachieving, music loving writer with a huge interest in the sciences. I'm also a HUGE fan of Shakespeare and One Direction, and would love to rant for hours about either. Hit me up with a text! I'm always happy to chat 🙂
Thanks to God! Thanks to my parents who teach me to do great works in this short life. My poem is published in International antalogy in America 🇺🇸 under the name of "Talented voices of Uzbekistan" and sited in amazon.com and put to sale in 26 countries. I am so glad about this news. Just amazing situation. My poem travelled to my favorite dream country before me. I will also travel soon, of course. May be you want to read it... Save me, God. I was born with hope in my pure eyes Grew up and saw spring more or less. What I did in this illusory World Save me from sinfulness ,oh, my dear God Doing big or small sin is just define, And I abandoned you in my merry time. But I asked you help, sinking in grime, Forgive me, your sinful slave, oh, my God. Life is beautiful with me, I got it, For filling my life with happy event. For doing a lot of worthwhile good deeds, Always protect me,oh, my kind God. I will obviously take the top of science, My attempts show this, my prays define. I never surrender, victory is mine, Encourage me in this long way, oh my God. His hands are harsh, his hair is white, Still works in daylight or during the night. Because he tries to make my life light, Preserve my father, I beg you, oh, my God. Wrinkly faced,her kerchief fits well on her head, Her love likes fount, her love never end. Even sacrifices her soul to her kids, Protect my heavenly mother, oh my God. Being capacity isn't my ambition , My nation will know me. This is my intention. Readers love my poems as Zulfiya's word, Support my every work ,oh, my dear God. My alone request, my sole plead, This five days life is going to end. When it will measured my sin and good deed, Brighten my face in front of you, God. There are defects,I know. But it is written with sorrow in my heart. Anyway, I tried to express my difficulties, especially, parents' challenges on the way to my happiness. So it was hard to me express it with words, truly, I am weak to do this.
Whatʼs your purpose in life? I still remember that event caused me to muse about this question deeply and to find the answer to it. The 16th of March. In the morning we didnʼt go to school. Bad news was being announced about the enterance of Coronavirus in Uzbekistan. Before we were banned to only celebrate holidays , but now we had to stay at home. Online lessons began but both teachers and pupils were not ready and their knowledge about social networks was too poor: Internet speed was very slow, few pupils participate and lessons were plain-vanilla: teachers gave questions and we wrote answers. Even so I thought I could feel the real diseaster of this illness when it entered in our village and especially, examined me with my beloved people. My dearest person, second mother – my granny was infected with Coronavirus. I was shocked because a thing I was mostly afraid had happened. She was taken to the hospital but I couldnʼt go, any family members also. At that moment the only reason calmed a bit was that my uncle who worked as a doctor was with her. I gave the same questions to myself again and again: When? How? Two days passed. Each time whan I asked my father how She was he didnʼt reply. " The virus progresses hard in old humans. Currently, the only hope is from Allah" - I cried when my mom told me doctors' conclusion. Uncle brought granny to home. Still she was breathing hard. He tried to put on oxygen mask on her mouth but she refused it, nobody persuaded her and also didnʼt take any medicine and just said "Anyhow, I donʼt want". Tears in my eyes I begged "Please, do something, uncle". Actually, I had already comprehended why she was doing like that. Maybe she would be very happy to die. Being happy to die so strange theory at first sight. However every patient who are fighting against a serious illness need bizarre courage. In old age your body becomes weak itʼs quite difficult to find this courage. Also she was left on the shore with the waves washing over her, unable to drown The next day everyone woke up except my angel granny- could She sleep inwardly? I was depressed. Itʼs so tough when you are seeing that your loved one is dying but canʼt do anything, itʼs pretty hard when you canʼt huge him or her for the last time, itʼs challenging when you know that you wonʼt be able to hear their voice anymore. After several weeks I could smell a sweet aroma of something while I was tidying the room." Grannyʼs flowers had spouted" I mumbled and went outside. These flowers' perfume is unique and fascinating thatʼs why every year in spring nearly all neighbours and relatives used to visit to pick up them. For this reason I had named them " Grannyʼs flower". She always said " We all die, our bad or good name stay afrer us". She died but her name is alive in her flowers or in people's memory who have smelled her flowers and in her words said to me. My grannyʼs death taught me to live my best life today and to be strong and that everything is temporary and doesnʼt become as we want. I was going to resemble my granny and I kind of reached my goal . In quarantine in a district near us a heavy rain and flooding took place, as a result population's homes ruined and stayed under the water. Because pandemic it was more difficult to help them. I decided to help them in spite of far distance. I posted challenge with headline "Dear compatriots, you are not alone! We are with you!". Soon many individuals commented and suppoted them. After that around the country the old, adults, children shared own stuff, clothes, toys, food with them. That occasion gave belief to me. Then I started my action online. Firsty, I prepared quiz and puzzles to make lessons more funny. Later I organised online competitions and gathered thousands of youth around me. Coronavirus wonʼt disappear, it will continue but canʼt appall us who are experienced now like before. Years ago, there wasnʼt a cure for flu, smallpox and whatnot thatʼs simple presently, this one will be too. Thereʼs one good thing in a bad one. Pandemic united the whole world together and on account of it humanity realised that they werenʼt be able to beat the virus lonely. I prefer to recall the period of COVID-19 with good aspects. We didnʼt know that Coronavirus would come and cause millions of people's death. And we donʼt know what will happen after a minute. Majority wait the arrival of time yet you are not able to guarantee you will wake up tomorrow . So today live your best life. I trust I found my true self by Coronavirus.
Today is a Brand New day as I will soon become class president elect and I hope that I start my day off right with a nice healthy breakfast all the time
Our lives are profoundly impacted by the Latin word "COMMUNICATION" (meaning "to share"). We are separate from all other species of ecosystems because of this process of "Sender-Medium-Receiver;" through graphical or verbal communication. Does that really sum it up? Or are we just a speaking and hearing entity? That's absurd! EMOTIONS & THEIR ROLE Despite being invisible, emotions play a critical role in communication. Many people don't realize that communication is more than just their ability to exchange thoughts. Globally, people are more attached to a range of feelings that are a result of reactions instead of formal, non-responsive dialogue. Even the chat screen on your smartphone includes emoticons that can help you deepen your descriptions at that particular point, or, better yet, to involve your companion in your world of thoughts altogether. Communication ought to be strong when people are on the same page. This is attainable only with equal involvement. Just visualize a person saying “I won!" with an uptight expression. That's not very logical. For listeners to experience the winning feeling, the words "I WON" should be delivered with genuine enthusiasm. The listener must feel that our expressions are revealed vaguely. This pragmatic communication can occur only if we rivet our feelings. The indifference of not-just-being a speaking entity starts with us. EMPHASIS ON FEELINGS Sharing our true feelings is important for a healthy relation. Communication always comes with an aim. The speaker is well aware of the topic but sometimes, when the speaker isn't well pioneered to express their thoughts, a void stays between the speaker and the listener. This void might be unhealthy for any relation, may it be professional or personal. Efforts should not be made for conveying; they should be made for explaining. More communication leads to a better understanding of the tactics of communication. Gradually, we become familiar with various reactions of the listeners, we become amicable with the possibilities of the mindsets of the listeners. The only secret to avoid any confusion is to describe the complete idea in our mind with rationality. Verbalizing just to empty our hearts can't be fruitful without maintaining the decency to take the loved one throughout our mind journey. Our intentions, whether to make one listen or whether to make one understand, hold into account. OUTCOME & LISTENING There's a long string of thoughts when we convey our story; the replies, the reactions and the latter's emotions are taken into account too! This creates a path that doesn't involve only one topic, instead, we walk together discussing many other points of view different from the aim of communication. Aggressive reactions are expected but interestingly, people can have opinions we haven't even considered! A brimming glass of thoughts squeezed into juice can taste sweeter if everyone's on the same page and equally reactive, regardless of a heated communication. We the best communication comes an involved Listening. Each eye has its sight different from everyone, so is our thought process. People wander away in the forest of words amidst talking. To stay in line, listening is crucial since our time and energy deserves to be channelized into productive communication. This is not just limited to communication. This leads to greater discovery, the listener himself! His reaction defines his feelings and indirectly defines his vision and his mindset. Words, however bold they are, they are never a struggle. If everyone takes the whole discussion empathically, the day ends fine. Expressing with details, without fearing the reactions in return, would never create a negative environment. The more you are free, the more you grow! Let your voice reach their heart, not just ears. May you be heard without saying. Please feel free to write your point of view in comments below.
Busy streets. Deafening sounds of vehicle horns. The irresistible aroma of Kwek-kwek, Fishball, and other Filipino street foods. And the wide smiles of the students every after class. I can still vividly remember how an everyday school dismissal looks like. It was worthwhile. Not until one day, everything changed in a blink of an eye. An unprecedented crisis entered and interrupted our lives, the COVID-19 pandemic. No one expected it. No one was ready. No one thought it would happen. We were all stuck in our homes because of the mandatory health protocols implemented worldwide. It affected our daily living big time. Routines were forcibly changed. Schools and workplaces were closed. Businesses were shut down. Most people lost their jobs. It was just a matter of survival. It was something terribly different. Full of adjustments and hardships. It felt like imprisonment, not having the freedom to do things you used to do. Just like how a face mask covers half of our faces as it serves as a wall of protection from the virus. This pandemic has been a barrier for easy communication and physical interaction. Needless to say, the transition from the normal world to the situation we are in today was challenging and crucial. I should say losing a loved one is difficult, but it's even more so in our situation today. I lost a good friend, a dedicated educator, and a selfless grandmother on the verge of this pandemic. We were not able to see them for the last time because of the prohibitions from the health department. It was something unwanted and was just a result of having no choice. I fought something bigger than the virus in this pandemic. I suffered from anxiety. I was not used to not having good grades after good grades, medals after medals and praises after praises. I dwelled on my insecurities and flaws. I felt like the odds were never in my favor. Slowly, every morning felt like I just needed to survive a day and I'm done. That I'm just a living organism wanting to escape the harsh realities of the world. That time was one of the moments I wish I were a kid again. That I'll just play minecraft or watch Barbie: The Princess charm school to ease the pain away. I started to question God because of the tragedies that have happened in my life. But after days of being empty and nights full of tears. I realized something. What are the chances of a person living in a city with existing local transmission and rising cases day by day to be Covid-free for almost 2 years. What are the chances of a person to be privileged enough to eat three times a day, have a family to be with through all these, and be able to study despite this pandemic? What are the chances of a person to be able to breathe fresh air rather than inhaling from an incubator? To be alive and kicking today is already a precious gift. The moment I accepted my imperfections, my flaws and my whole being, I began to see life in a bigger, better and brighter picture. I've come to the point where I continuously embrace not just my strengths, but also my weaknesses. I decided to feel human again by not letting my expectations and my thoughts define who I am. I chose to live without regrets, just gratitude. I always wondered about the things that I can do and how I can achieve those things. I explored myself. I bonded with my family more. As a matter of fact, we'd watch Netflix movies every friday night! I learned to check up on my friends and chat with them every once in a while. I started to play different musical instruments passionately. Those instruments include the harp, the kalimba and my favorite, the piano. Because of that, I became our church's pianist and safe to say, I have improved my people skills. Though face-to-face classes and interactions were banned, I found a way to enlarge my environment. I connected with people through joining online youth organizations. I should say my birthday this year is the best. Instead of having a glamorous party, I chose to celebrate it with street children, and it was fun! To satisfy my love for literature, I participated in writing webinars and joined international writing competitions like this! Fortunately, I won an outstanding position over 1500 participants in the International Creative Writing Competition organized by India. Sometimes, we forget to appreciate the beauty of life because we focus on our downfalls and shortcomings. There are still so many things to be grateful for. Look around and see what the universe can offer. Use it to your advantage, for you to grow and to be the best version of yourself. Always strive to get better each day, even if you're not in the best situation and in the best circumstance. Never let any catastrophe, even this pandemic, ruin the person you were, the person you are and the person you will be. Find your sanctuary of peace in a chaotic world. There will always be light in the darkness.
In the scorching summer temperatures, Look for Me Under the Rainbow eBook price is melting! The story of Danny, a curious seal pup with soft white fur and black innocent eyes, and Helen, an environmentalist and the Rainbow Warriors activist on a mission to save animals, is at a discounted price on Amazon. Its normal price is $2.99 and during this week it is only $0.99! Monday, July 26, 2021, 8:00 AM PDT through Monday, August 2, 2021, 12:00 AM PDT First read an excerpt: The other seals had traveled quite a distance, but Danny still stood on the edge of the ice floe, staring at the landscape he became so fond of in his brief life. He loved the icebergs, the sea, the ice floe where he and Jon played hide-and-seek. And he'd never forget the moment he laid his eyes on her—the human female. Overwhelmed by the memories of the past weeks, he held back. They made it hard for him to decide to embark on the long migration. Though the call of his homeland was equally powerful, if Jon had not asked in a gentle voice, “Shall we go, Danny?” he was sure he would have stayed. Leaving them to wander this icebound world and beautiful sea for a year, while they waited for their group to return. Then download your Look for Me Under the Rainbow eBook here. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07C7JGMNG/ If you prefer a paperback, you can get it here. https://www.amazon.com/dp/9535958135/ “The worldbuilding and descriptions are basically spectacular . . . I became lost in the icy world the author created.”—J.C. Gallo, author of The Shadowverse and The Shadowverse: Vengeance Don't forget to check out and read my other books: Cruel Summer, January River, and A World Without Color. Happy reading and thank you! BJ Subscribe to my mailing list. Follow me on Twitter. Original post: https://www.bernardjan.com/post/look-for-me-under-the-rainbow-discount
It is here: a new opportunity to get January River, a literary fiction coming-of-age story, at a 67% discounted price. Your perfect summer read for only $0.99! Friday, June 18, 2021, 8:00 AM PDT through Friday, June 25, 2021, 12:00 AM PDT First read an excerpt: In the still air, the river flowed quietly. Steadily. Innocently. Nothing about it had changed as if nothing happened. Effortlessly and seemingly without concern, the river continued to give life to all around it. But also taking it. . . . Ethan watched the river and felt as though the river also observed him. Two silent witnesses, side by side again after so much time. Ethan had often wondered what this moment would be like. Would he find the river repelling, disgusting even, carried by the ravages of time and pressured by anxiety heavy as storm clouds? Or would it be seductive like it had been long ago when he was still a child? Removing the rest of his clothes, he stood on the sand along the riverbank. The sunbeams warmed his naked body—a body weakened and slimmed by an avalanche of past events. He walked into the cold water up to his knees and shuddered. Almost icy. Or was he too hot after basking in the sun? He barely hesitated before plunging in. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation. Love between the river and him could not dissipate that easily. As he swam, he wondered if this love would ever dissolve. Would another separation be even harder than the last? Then download January River eBook here. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B086LJJC8V “January River is a wonderfully introverted novel that would be ideal for reading, I think, particularly on long hot summer days. I enjoyed spending time with the McCoy family and their friends and found myself left with a wistfully nostalgic view of their lives (despite their misfortunes) at the end. This novel isn't one for action fans, but readers who like character-driven recent history novels should give January River a try.”—Stephanie Jane, author of Finally a Vegan: My Journey to Veganuary and Beyond and reviewer for Literary Flits book blog Don't forget to check out and read my other books: Cruel Summer, Look for Me Under the Rainbow and A World Without Color. Happy reading and thank you! BJ Subscribe to my mailing list. Follow me on Twitter. Original post: https://www.bernardjan.com/post/january-river-summer-discount
Having spent over three decades on this planet, I have come to several realizations. The chief being that 'LIFE IS DIFFICULT' and it is meant to be difficult. The earlier you realize this fact and learn to live with, the easier it gets to manage certain shocking events. Be ready to handle disappointments, because before this journey is over, you will be disappointed several times. Be ready to handle betrayals because you will be betrayed many times, and you might also betray others. Get ready to handle loss because, you will lose friends and loved ones, and I don't mean they will go missing or stop being your friends(those are also possibilities) but in this case, I mean they will die and you will weep for them. Be ready for heartbreaks because your heart will be broken, may be, more than once and you'll probably break some hearts yourself. Get ready for pleasant surprises because you will get quite a few. Get ready for joy and laughter because you will also have those in abundance. Get ready for opportunities because they will come and some only once, and you will regret it if you let them pass. So take life as it comes with your shock absorbers in place. Cry when the tears come, laugh the hardest when laughter presents itself. Love like it is your last day(it may very well be) and take as many pictures as you can. Tell and show your kids you love them at every opportunity. Kiss your spouse, talk to your family, tell your parents you appreciate them. Take that dance class, run that marathon, go on that hike, live ! just live!. Forgive that person who hurt you, that may be your only opportunity to do so, repair as much breaches as you can. For as difficult as life may be, numerous are the joys to be found and had there in, if only we can truly look.
