Shawn L. Bird

Memory distorts with time, like air rippling over a fire—what is gone becomes only more precious, becomes only more precious, becomes a yearning, a perfect dream.  Every word of those letters, every moment I shared with him, has been memorized in the language of a dream continuously visited, revisited.  The letters are gone but only haunt me more; I close my eyes and remember the words by heart.  I have nothing of the girl I used to be, aside from those old dreams.  I have become a ghost of myself.” (p. 88.  The King’s Rose  Alisa M. Libby)

Well Alisa, I couldn’t have said that better myself.  I bet Auntie Bright could completely relate to this sentiment!