Life
Click on the star. :p
Five Lessons
1. Stranger in the Hallway
the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"
Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the
cleaning woman several times. She was tall,
dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know
her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last
question blank. Before class ended, one student
asked if the last question would count toward our
quiz grade.
Absolutely," said the professor. In your careers
you will meet many people. All are significant.
They deserve your attention and care, even if all
you do is smile and say 'hello'. I've never
forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name
was Dorothy.
2. Pickup in the Rain
One night, at 11:30 PM, an older African-American
woman was standing on the side of an Alabama
highway trying to endure a lashing rain storm.
Her car had broken down and she desperately needed
a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the
next car. A young white man stopped to help her,
generally unheard of in those conflict-filled
1960s. The man took her to safety, helped her get
assistance and put her into a taxi cab. She
seemed to be in a big hurry! She wrote down his
address, thanked him and drove away.
Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's
door. To his surprise, a giant combination
console color TV and stereo record player were
delivered to his home. A special note was
attached.
The note read:
Dear Mr. James, Thank you so much for assisting me
on the highway the other night. The rain drenched
not only my clothes but my spirits. Then you came
along. Because of you, I was able to make it to
my dying husband's bedside just before he passed
away. God bless you for helping me and
unselfishly serving others.
Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.
3. A Little Boy
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much
less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee
shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass
of water in front of him. "How much is an ice
cream sundae?"
"Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little
boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied
a number of coins in it. "How much is a dish of
plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some people were
now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit
impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she said
brusquely.
The little boy again counted the coins. "I'll
have the plain ice cream," he said. The waitress
brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table
and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream,
paid the cashier and departed.
When the waitress came back, she began wiping down
the table and then swallowed hard at what she
saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish,
were two nickels and five pennies - her tip.
4. The Obstacles in our Path
In ancient times, a king had a boulder placed on a
roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see
if anyone would remove the huge rock.
Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and
courtiers came by and simply walked around it.
Many loudly blamed the king for not keeping the
roads clear, but none did anything about getting
the big stone out of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of
vegetables. On approaching the boulder, the
peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the
stone to the side of the road.
After much pushing and straining, he finally
succeeded. As the peasant picked up his load of
vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road
where the boulder had been. The purse contained
many gold coins and a note from the king
indicating that the gold was for the person who
removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant
learned what many others never understand.
Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve
one's condition.
5. Giving Blood
Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at
Stanford Hospital, I got to know a little girl
named Liza who was suffering from a rare and
serious disease. Her only chance of recovery
appeared to be a blood transfusion from her
five-year old brother, who had miraculously
survived the same disease and had developed the
antibodies needed to combat the illness.
The doctor explained the situation to her little
brother, and asked the boy if he would be willing
to give his blood to his sister. I saw him
hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep
breath and saying, "Yes, I'll do it if it will
save Liza."
As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next
to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing
the color returning to her cheeks. Then his face
grew pale and his smile faded. He looked up at
the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will
I start to die right away?" Being young, the boy
had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was
going to have to give her all his blood.
I Have Learned.....
I've learned that you cannot make someone love
you. All you can do is be someone who can be
loved. The rest is up to them.
I've learned that no matter how much I care, some
people just don't care back.
I've learned that it takes years to build up
trust, and only seconds to destroy it.
I've learned that it's not what you have in your
life but who you have in your life that counts.
I've learned that you can get by on charm for
about fifteen minutes. After that, you'd better
know something.
I've learned that you shouldn't compare yourself
to the best others can do but to the best you can
do.
I've learned that it's not what happens to people
that's important. It's what they do about it.
I've learned that you can do something in an
instant that will give you heartache for life.
I've learned that no matter how thin you slice it,
there are always two sides.
I've learned that it's taking me a long time to
become the person I want to be.
I've learned that it's a lot easier to react than
it is to think.
I've learned that you should always leave loved
ones with loving words. It maybe the last time you
see them.
I've learned that you can keep going long after
you think you can't.
I've learned that we are responsible for what we
do, no matter how we feel.
I've learned that either you control your attitude
or it controls you.
I've learned that regardless of how hot and steamy
a relationship is at first, the passion fades and
there had better be something else to take its
place.
I've learned that heroes are the people who do
what has to be done when it needs to be done,
regardless of the consequences.
I've learned that learning to forgive takes
practice.
I've learned that there are people who love you
dearly, but just don't know how to show it.
I've learned that money is a lousy way of keeping
score.
I've learned that my best friend and I can do
anything or nothing and have the best time.
I've learned that sometimes the people you expect
to kick you when you're down will be the ones to
help you get back up.
I've learned that sometimes when I'm angry I have
the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me
the right to be cruel.
I've learned that true friendship continues to
grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes
for true love.
I've learned that just because someone doesn't
love you the way you want them to doesn't mean
they don't love you with all they have.
I've learned that maturity has more to do with
what types of experiences you've had and what
you've learned from them and less to do with how
many birthdays you've celebrated.
I've learned that you should never tell a child
their dreams are unlikely or outlandish. Few
things are more humiliating, and what a tragedy it
would be if they believed it.
I've learned that your family won't always be
there for you. It may seem funny, but people you
aren't related to can take care of you and love
you and teach you to trust people again. Families
aren't biological.
I've learned that no matter how good a friend is,
they're going to hurt you every once in a while
and you must forgive them for that.
I've learned that it isn't always enough to be
forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to
forgive yourself.
I've learned that no matter how bad your heart is
broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.
I've learned that our background and circumstances
may have influenced who we are, but we are
responsible for who we become.
I've learned that sometimes when my friends fight,
I'm forced to choose sides even when I don't want
to.
I've learned that just because two people argue,
it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And
just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean
they do.
I've learned that sometimes you have to put the
individual ahead of their actions.
I've learned that we don't have to change friends
if we understand that friends change.
I've learned that you shouldn't be so eager to
find out a secret. It could change your life
forever.
I've learned that two people can look at the exact
same thing and see something totally different.
I've learned that no matter how you try to protect
your children, they will eventually get hurt and
you will hurt in the process.
I've learned that there are many ways of falling
and staying in love.
I've learned that no matter the consequences,
those who are honest with themselves get farther
in life.
I've learned that no matter how many friends you
have, if you are their pillar you will feel lonely
and lost at the times you need them most.
I've learned that your life can be changed in a
matter of hours by people who don't even know you.
I've learned that even when you think you have no
more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you
will find the strength to help.
I've learned that writing, as well as talking, can
ease emotional pains.
I've learned that the paradigm we live in is not
all that is offered to us.
I've learned that credentials on the wall do not
make you a decent human being.
I've learned that the people you care most about
in life are taken from you too soon.
I've learned that although the word "love" can
have many different meaning, it loses value when
overly used.
I've learned that it's hard to determine where to
draw the line between being nice and not hurting
people's feelings and standing up for what you
believe.
ALL GOOD THINGS
He was in the first third grade class I taught at
Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my
students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one
in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had
that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his
occasional mischievousness delightful.
Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him
again and again that talking without permission
was not acceptable. What impressed me so much,
though, was his sincere response every time I had
to correct him for misbehaving - "Thank you for
correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make
of it at first, but before long I became
accustomed to hearing it many times a day.
One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark
talked once too often, and then I made a novice
teacher's mistake. I looked at Mark and said, "If
you say one more word, I am going to tape your
mouth shut!" It wasn't ten seconds later when
Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I
hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch
Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in
front of the class, I had to act on it.
I remember the scene as if it had occurred this
morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately
opened by drawer and took out a roll of masking
tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's
desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X
with them over his mouth. I then returned to the
front of the room.
As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he
winked at me. That did it!! I started laughing.
The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk,
removed the tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His
first words were, "Than you for correcting me,
sister."
At the end of the year, I was asked to teach
junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I
knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was
more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since
he had to listen carefully to my instruction in
the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth
grade as he had in third. One Friday, things just
didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new
concept all week, and I sensed that the students
were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and
edgy with one another.
I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of
hand. So I asked them to list the names of the
other students in the room on two sheets of paper,
leaving a space between each name. Then I told
them to think of the nicest thing they could say
about each of their classmates and write it down.
It took the remainder of the class period to
finish their assignment, and as the students left
the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie
smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me,
Sister. Have a good weekend."
That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each
student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed
what everyone else had said about that individual.
On Monday I gave each student his or her list.
Before long, the entire class was smiling.
"Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that
meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others
liked me so much."
No one ever mentioned those papers in class
again. I never knew if they discussed them after
class or with their parents, but it didn't
matter. The exercise had accomplished its
purpose. The students were happy with themselves
and one another again.
That group of students moved on. Several years
later, after I returned from vacation, my parents
met me at the airport. As we were driving home,
Mother asked me the usual questions about the
trip - the weather, my experiences in general.
There was a lull in the conversation.
Mother gave Dad a side-ways glance and simply
says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he
usually did before something important.
"The Eklunds called last night," he began.
Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in
years. I wonder how Mark is."
Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in
Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and
his parents would like it if you could attend."
To this day I can still point to the exact spot on
I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.
I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin
before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I
could think at that moment was, Mark I would give
all the masking tape in the world if only you
would talk to me.
The church was packed with Mark's friends.
Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the
Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of
the funeral? It was difficult enough at the
graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers,and
the bugler played taps. One by one those who
loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and
sprinkled it with holy water. I was the last one
to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the
soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to me.
"Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I
nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin.
"Mark talked about you a lot," he said. After the
funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed
to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and
father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We
want to show you something," his father said,
taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found
this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you
might recognize it."
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two
worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously
been taped, folded and refolded many times. I
knew without looking that the papers were the ones
on which I had listed all the good things each of
Mark's classmates had said about him.
Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother
said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it." Mark's
classmates started to gather around us. Charlie
smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have
my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at
home."
Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in
our wedding album."
"I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my
diary."
Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her
pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her
worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry the
entire list this with me at all times," Vicki said
without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved
our lists."
That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried
for Mark and for all his friends who would never
see him again.
The Father's Eyes
This teenager lived alone with his father, and the
two of them had a very special relationship. Even
though the son was always on the bench, his father
was always in the stands cheering. He never
missed a game. This young man was still the
smallest of the class when he entered high
school. But his father continued to encourage him
but also made it very clear that he did not have
to play football if he didn't want to. But the
young man loved football and decided to hang in
there. He was determined to try his best at every
practice, and perhaps he'd get to play when he
became a senior. All through high school he never
missed a practice nor a game, but remained a bench
warmer all four years. His faithful father was
always in the stands, always with words of
encouragement for him. When the young man went to
college, he decided to try out for the football
team as a "walk-on." Everyone was sure he could
never make the cut, but he did. The coach
admitted that he kept him on the roster because he
always puts his heart and soul to every practice,
and at the same time, provided the other members
with the spirit and hustle they badly needed. The
news that he had survived the cut thrilled him so
much that he rushed to the nearest phone and
called his father. His father shared his
excitement and was sent season tickets for all the
college games. This persistent young athlete
never missed practice during his four years at
college, but he never got to play in the game. It
was the end of his senior football season, and as
he trotted onto the practice field shortly before
the big play off game, the coach met him with a
telegram. The young man read the telegram and he
became deathly silent. Swallowing hard, he
mumbled to the coach, "My father died this
morning. Is it all right if I miss practice
today?" The coach put his arm gently around his
shoulder and said, "Take the rest of the week off,
son. And don't even plan to come back to the game
on Saturday. Saturday arrived, and the game was
not going well. In the third quarter, when the
team was ten points behind, a silent young man
quietly slipped into the empty locker room and put
on his football gear. As he ran onto the
sidelines, the coach and his players were
astounded to see their faithful teammate back so
soon. "Coach, please let me play. I've just got
to play today," said the young man. The coach
pretended not to hear him. There was no way he
wanted his worst player in this close playoff
game. But the young man persisted, and finally
feeling sorry for the kid, the coach gave in.
"All right," he said. "You can go in." Before
long, the coach, the players and everyone in the
stands could not believe their eyes. This little
unknown, who had never played before was doing
everything right. The opposing team could not
stop him. He ran, he passed, blocked and tackled
like a star. His team began to triumph. The
score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of
the game, this kid intercepted a pass and ran all
the way for the winning touchdown. The fans broke
loose. His teammates hoisted him onto their
shoulders. Such cheering you've never heard!
Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team
had showered and left the locker room, the coach
noticed that the young man was sitting quietly in
the corner all alone. The coach came to him and
said, "Kid, I can't believe it. You were
fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did you
do it?" He looked at the coach, with tears in his
eyes, and said, "Well, you knew my dad died, but
did you know that my dad was blind?" The young
man swallowed hard and forced a smile, "Dad came
to all my games, but today was the first time he
could see me play, and I wanted to show him I
could do it!"
In kindergarten your idea of a good friend was the
person who let you have the red crayon when all
that was left was the ugly black one.
In first grade your idea of a good friend was the
person who went to the bathroom with you and held
your hand as you walked through the scary halls.
In second grade your idea of a good friend was the
person who helped you stand up to the class bully.
In third grade your idea of a good friend was the
person who shared their lunch with you when you
forgot yours on the bus.
In fourth grade your idea of a good friend was the
person who was willing to switch square dancing
partners in gym so you wouldn't have to be stuck
do-si-do-ing with Nasty Nicky or Smelly Susan.
In fifth grade your idea of a friend was the
person who saved a seat on the back of the bus for
you.
In sixth grade your idea of a friend was the
person who went up to Nicky or Susan, your new
crush, and asked them to dance with you, so that
if they said no you wouldn't have to be embarrassed.
In seventh grade your idea of a friend was the
person who let you copy the social studies
homework from the night before that you had.
In eighth grade your idea of a good friend was the
person who helped you pack up your stuffed animals
and old baseball but didn't laugh at you when you
finished and broke out into tears.
In ninth grade your idea of a good friend was the
person who would go to a party thrown by a senior
so you wouldn't wind up being the only freshman
there.
In tenth grade your idea of a good friend was the
person who changed their schedule so you would
have someone to sit with at lunch.
In eleventh grade your idea of a good friend was
the person who gave you rides in their new car,
convinced your parents that you shouldn't be
grounded, consoled you when you broke up with Nick
[or Glenn] or Susan, and found you a date to the
prom.
In twelfth grade your idea of a good friend was
the person who helped you pick out a
college/university, assured you that you would get
into that college/university, helped you deal with
your parents who were having a hard time adjusting
to the idea of letting you go...
At graduation your idea of a good friend was the
person who was crying on the inside but managed
the biggest smile one could give as they
congratulated you.
The summer after twelfth grade your idea of a good
friend was the person who helped you clean up the
bottles from that party, helped you sneak out of
the house when you just couldn't deal with your
parents, assured you that now that you and Nick or
you and Susan were back together, you could make
it through anything, helped you pack up for
university and just silently hugged you as you
looked through blurry eyes at 18 years of memories
you were leaving behind, and finally on those last
days of childhood, went out of their way to give
you reassurance that you would make it in college
as well as you had these past 18 years, and most
importantly sent you off to college knowing you
were loved.
Now, your idea of a good friend is still the
person who gives you the better of the two
choices, holds your hand when you're scared, helps
you fight off those who try to take advantage of
you, thinks of you at times when you are not
there, reminds you of what you have forgotten,
helps you put the past behind you but understands
when you need to hold on to it a little longer,
stays with you so that you have confidence, goes
out of their way to make time for you, helps you
clear up your mistakes, helps you deal with
pressure from others, smiles for you when they are
sad, helps you become a better person, and most
importantly loves you!
Jack,
My grandmother, who just passed away, was a huge
Paul Harvey fan. My grandpa found this article in
an envelope addressed to me which she apparently
had wanted to send to me before she got sick. It
was from a newspaper, many years ago, as she has
battled Alzheimers for a long time. He sent it to
me, and I think I will treasure this more than
anything else she could have "left" for me.
rene
These Things I Wish for You
by Paul Harvey
We tried so hard to make things better for our kids
that we made them worse. For my grandchildren, I'd
know better.
I'd really like for them to know about
hand-me-down clothes and homemade ice cream and
leftover meat loaf. I really would.
My cherished grandson, I hope you learn humility be
being humiliated and that you learn honesty by
being cheated.
I hope you learn to make your bed and mow the lawn
and wash the car-and I hope nobody gives you a
brand-new car when you are 16. And I hope you
have a job by then.
It will be good if at least one time you can see a
baby calf born and see your old dog put to sleep.
I hope you get a black eye fighting for something
you believe in.
I hope you have to share a bedroom with your
younger brother. And it is all right to draw a
line down the middle of the room, but-when he
wants to crawl under the covers with you because
he's scared - I hope you'll let him.
And when you want to see a Disney movie and your
kid brother wants to tag along I hope you take him.
I hope you have to walk uphill with your friends
and that you live in a town where you can do it
safely. And rainy days when you have to hitch a
ride I hope your driver doesn't have to drop you
two blocks away so you won't be seen riding with
somebody as uncool as your mom.
If you want a slingshot I hope your father teaches
you how to make one instead of buy one.
I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books,
and when you learn to use those new-fangled
computers, you also learn how to add and subtract
in your head.
I hope you get razzed by friends when you have your
first crush on a girl, and that when you talk back
to your mother I hope you learn what Ivory soap
tastes like.
May you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn
your hand on the stove and stick your tongue on a
frozen flagpole.
I hope you get sick when some stupid old person
blows cigar smoke in your face.
I don't care if you try beer once, but I hope you
won't like it. And if a friend offers you a joint
or any dope I hope you are smart enough to realize
he is not your friend.
I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with
your grandpa or go fishing with your uncle.
May you feel sorrow at a funeral and the joy of
holidays.
I hope your mother punishes you when you throw a
baseball through a neighbor's window and that she
hugs you and kisses you at Christmas time, when
you give her a plaster of Paris mold of your hand.
These things I wish for you - tough times and
disappointment, hard work, and happiness.
He was driving home one evening, on two-lane
country road. Work in this small Midwestern
community, was almost as slow as his beat-up
Pontiac. But he never quit looking. Ever since
the factory closed, he'd been unemployed, and with
winter raging on, the chill had finally hit home.
It was a lonely road. Not very many people had a
reason to be on it, unless they were leaving.
Most of his friends had already left. They had
families to feed and dreams to fulfill. But he
stayed on. After all, this was where buried his
mother and father. He was born here and he knew
the country. He could go down this road blind,
and tell you what was on either side, and with his
headlights not working, this came in handy. It was
starting to get dark and light snow flurries were
coming down. He'd better get a move on. You know,
he almost didn't see the old lady,stranded on the
side of the road. But even in the dim light of
day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up
in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac
was still sputtering when he approached her. Even
with the smile on his face, she was worried. No
one had stopped to help for the last hour or so.
Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe, he
looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was
frightened, standing out there in the cold. He
knew how she felt. It was that chill which only
fear can put in you. He said, "I'm here to help
you ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where
it's warm? By the way, my name is Bryan." Well,
all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady,
that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car
looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his
knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to
change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his
hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts,
she rolled down the window and began to talk to
him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and
was only just passing through. She couldn't thank
him enough for coming to her aid. Bryan just
smiled as he closed her trunk. She asked him how
much she owed him. Any amount would have been all
right with her. She had already imagined all the
awful things that could have happened had he not
stopped. Bryan never thought twice about the
money. This was not a job to him. This was
helping someone in need, and God knows there were
plenty who had given him a hand in the past... He
had lived his whole life that way, and it never
occurred to him to act any other way. He told her
that if she really wanted to pay him back, the
next time she saw someone who needed help, she
could give that person the assistance that they
needed, and Bryan added"...and think of me." He
waited until she started her car and drove off.
It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt
good as he headed for home, disappearing into the
twilight. A few miles down the road the lady saw a
small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat,
and take the chill off before she made the last
leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking
restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The
whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash
register was like the telephone of an out of work
actor - it didn't ring much. Her waitress came
over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet
hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being
on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The
lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight
months pregnant, but she never let the strain and
aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered
how someone who had so little could be so giving
to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan. After
the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went
to get change for her hundred dollar bill, the
lady slipped right out the door. She was gone by
the time the waitress came back. She wondered
where the lady could be, then she noticed something
written on the napkin under which was 4 $100 bills.
There were tears in her eyes when she read what the
lady wrote. It said: "You don't owe me anything, I
have been there too. Somebody once helped me out,
the way I'm helping you. If you really want to
pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this
chain of love end with you."
Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to
fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made
it through another day. That night when she got
home from work and climbed into bed, she was
thinking about the money and what the lady had
written. How could the lady have known how much
she and her husband needed it? With the baby due
next month, it was going to be hard. She knew how
worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping
next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and
whispered soft and low, "Everything's gonna be all
right; I love you, Bryan."
