I meant to do something fun and exciting for yesterday, however my nervous breakdown interrupted all other thought processes.

I watched Autumn in New York this weekend, and though the movie isn't exactly a wonderment of great dialogue or well, even plot for all that matter, it's worth watching -- that is, if you enjoy watching pointless love stories that make you cry. So, near the end when Will was sitting near Charlotte's bedside (just before she was about to be rushed away to surgery), she opened her eyes to talk to him and I realized that when my time comes and I have one last person to look at, shouldn't it be someone I am truly in love with? (Yeah, yeah -- you can hear the fairy-tale-believing-evre-hopeful-Kelly returning already, can't you?) My new thought on love is that we all have at least one great love, and if we are very lucky perhaps more. But I suppose for reasons all too human we let go or lose those loves all too often. No, I suppose true love in the Disney fashion isn't real, and who would want it to be? Why on earth would Cinderella rush off to marry a man she barely even knew, besides the obvious -- she was running away, running for protection.

No one around here has ever seen that happen before, have they?

But I digress.

Friday is my birthday, and I am just a little bit sad but yet altogether thrilled to know that no matter what, not even if someone parked a shiny Karman Ghia in my driveway, could this birthday be even half as amazing as my last birthday, illness and all. That's a comforting thought. That's why I know we all have someone we want to have near us when we're old and grey. Or sick and tired. Or blue. Or lying in a hospital bed about to be whisked away for brain surgery.

Close your eyes. We all have a person. Someone comes to mind. Your eyes close, their face appears, and you can't help but smile, and maybe even cry a little -- amazed at the power of the emotion, the knowledge, the truth that we tend to try to ignore that refuses to be forgotten.

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