Weep, mother, for your lost children. I see them, the students, young men and women of a bright new future... that would never come.

Limp and motionless, their blood staining the pavement, bodies riddled with bullets--they lie. One still grips the remains of a shattered speaker, yet another displays what they died for: 我们想要自由.

A few miles away, a young soldier sent to enforce peace lies beaten and broken, his slender frame hanging like a rag doll, eyes empty and defeated. Even he has been betrayed. Though I am privileged now, I still grieve for my lost brothers and sisters.

Rays of sun beating down,

Covering my gleeful face in their golden light

I dash throughout the field of grass,

Emerald blades tickling my bare legs

My brothers follow after,

All of us laughing and playing together

A picturesque summer day,

The beauty of nature,

And the innocence of childhood,

Closely entwined forever

The people I love,

Those who love me back,

And the magic of a beautiful day

A precious memory I’ll hold inside

For the rest of my life

The stove is green. You can see more magnets than fridge. Food may come out but it's love that goes in. You can see the lilacs blooming and smell their fragrance through the open window. It was a time of no worries, no responsibilities and feeling adored. That's why my kitchen will always be yellow.

You know how in the movies; the deadbeat dad comes to surprise his little girl on her birthday? You know how, as the viewer, you watch and shake your head either in empathy or shame?

But to “Daddy’s Little Girl”, her face will light up in surprise and excitement. Friends and gifts forgotten because now her whole family was here, and it’s felt like forever since she’s seen him.

Before mommy could get mad, he swept her away for a day at the mall. And she will always remember the good parts, despite the many bad.

Wrapped in your arms, your warmth a stark contrast from the bitter cold December night. Our blissful sleep was disturbed by the soft glow of the rising winter sun ebbing over the horizon. I gazed out the window to a surreal scene. The world so unbelievably still, so devoid of life, covered in a blanket of the purest white reflecting the brilliant orange fire of the sun. A world ablaze in a cascade of fire and ice. The ugliness of the world melted away, like the ice frozen to the glass. To reveal a beauty that I had all but forgotten could ever exist.

I sat on the edge of my parent's bed crying. They each held one of my hands. My mom and Dad both looked at me so happily. I had just told them that I might have depression.

"I'm so proud of you honey, for telling us this," My mom said her voice catching, "We're going to get through this, everything is going to be okay." My dad nodded and for the first time ever I believed those words. This moment changed my whole life, and probably saved me from doing something I would regret later on.

Yes, I planned to be at home. My eighteen month old boy to witness, my husband to share. My midwife, to attend. The stark contrast of the sterile hospital where my son was born to laboring in my own living room while my midwife played peek-a-boo around my belly with him was overwhelming. The labor tub, warm and receptive. I opened to the experience, and my daughter was born. There in the water, husband, son, newborn daughter and me...could anything, ever again, contain a family so perfectly? She's a teenager now, that memory fades to a scowl as we argue.

so the funny thing about life is that you can live your whole life and only one moment is that defying moment. we read books and see movies that are dramatic that are tragic, but the funny thing is that before the titanic rose’s life was a bore, before elizabeth met mr. darcy her life was just living day to day. i guess my life was forever changed and shaped by the time he told me he loved me, he changed me forever, i know it's cliche but thats the moment . well that's all i have time for folks.

How I miss yesterday, how I let it fade away

Slip through my fingers, and pray for another day

Another day with you, another way with you

Pressed against a wall, your hands laced in mines

My wild, gullible four-year-old imagination let me believe my older sister stating that all movies were real. The twister really happened in Oz. The Bond movies led me to sleep with the covers over my head, from fear that an assassin would crawl through the air vents and shoot poision in me while I slept.

What about cartoons? I asked her triumphantly, my smart-ass streak showing early. No way Aladdin is real.

She assurred me it was. Disney movies were all filmed in a different dimension.

Suspension of disbelief, they call it.

I have her to thank for my career.